Still a Thief
by EnderW20
Summary: Remy post Antartica. After the trial, Gambit attempts to become a legend among thieves and to forget about his past. Will his path take him back to the Xmen, or pit him against them? Includes all the Xmen. RR
1. The Rumour

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, although Marvel might as well just give Remy away for as much as they use him. I'm not making any money off of this and couldnt if I tried anyways.**

**Authors note: Another Antartica Fic. I know there all the same but i think the difference is how you right the characters and how they interact. No one writes Remy as good as Valerie J but I gave it a try, let me know if I should keep going or just stick to reading**.

The tall figure that walked down a busy New York street turned more than a few heads, the aura of danger and mystery that he exuded appealed to both women and men alike. None of them that noticed him could quite place the attraction, besides his perfect good looks there was something else there that drew them to him, something on the fringe of their minds that demanded their attention, something intangible that made them want to be with him, be part of his life, something that was there because he allowed it to be. Normally he chose to walk in the shadows, to be unnoticeable, someone in his line of work could rarely afford to draw the type of attention that he was receiving, anonymity was his ally, his very way of life. But after being rejected by those that he called friends, the ones that he considered family, the ones that he would have died for, he used the attention to attach some sort of self worth to his meaningless and tortured existence.

Despite the sweltering July afternoon, a slight breeze bit through his worn leather duster and sent a shiver through his body that bit him to his core. He was cold; he was always cold since he spent those days in sub-zero temperatures in Antarctica, no matter how many layers or how high the temperature was; sweat could be running freely from every pour, but he was always cold. On those occasions that it was caused by a gust of wind, it made it all the worse because it caused him to remember one of his biggest regrets, his guilt ridden conscience could not let him forget, forced him to remember that he betrayed the one who trusted him unconditionally, who's love was pure and whose understanding and kindness to him were limitless, it made him think about Stormy.

If it wasn't for her he might go back, he could explain to the others and live with their hatred, he had known since day one that few of them cared for him anyways, he could feel it, a sledge hammer beating relentlessly against the mental shields that made him a ghost. He let those feelings in, because deep down, past all the bravado and arrogance, past the self confidence and flippant remarks that were always ready on the surface, he knew in his heart that he deserved every hateful, distrustful feeling that was thrown at him. But the thought of looking into those crystalline blue eyes, seeing the betrayal and the hurt that he swore to himself he would protect her from at all costs, was too much. He knew if it came to that moment, he would let those emotions in as well, he would hold on to them until they twisted his broken soul into something disfigured, until he could come close to the pain that he had caused for so many others.

And her, he couldn't even begin to sort through his feelings for her. Did he hate her, yes, did he still love her, maybe, the conflicting emotions that swirled within him whenever he though of her was the most confusing aspect of the entire situation. At least it would be easy to face her, after gaining acess to his memories she now knew everything their was to know about his despicable past, there was nothing left to hide or explain, either she accepted it or she condemned him for it, either way their was little left that he had to say on the matter. But judging from her initial reaction of leaving him to die in a frozen wasteland, he was betting on the latter.

Life was so much simpler then, before he was an X-Man, before when Ororo was just a child, his sidekick, before he was used by Sinister, before he was used by his own adopted father. In many ways Remy Lebeau longed for the simple day to day living of a street urchin who's only concern was where to find his next meal and safe shelter, but now he felt even that was too good a life for him.

He was at a loss, no direction, no purpose, no meaning to his pitiful existence. As he moved through the crowded mass of New York he wondered, "What de Hell you gon' do now LeBeau? Gotta start somewhere, you always were considered one of de best three t'ieves in de worl', mebee it be time to remedy dat so der aint no doubt who number one be non? Like pere always said, when all else fails you a t'ief, an homme, you be about as far pas' failure as you can get. T'ink I'll put some feelers out tomorrow, see what kinda contracts I can pick up. Firs' t'ings firs' though, I t'ink dat a good lookin' femme and a bottle of bourbon be jus' what dis Cajun needs".

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No one would even look each other in the eye anymore, it seemed as if they were just going through the motions, he wondered if anyone still believed in Xaviers dream or if they were just playing along because they had become so familiar with it that it was all done out of habit.

Scott Summers sat at the head of the table in the war room ready to give the debrief of their latest mission and wondered to himself what the point of it was. It was a simple run, another anti-mutant rally that had gone a too far, another crowd caught in the frenzy of its own hate until it spilled over into something more. Soon they were not rallying but marching, looking for something that they could expunge their hate and fears upon, anything or anyone that was or represented anything different became a target. A quick downpour from Ororo had dispersed the crowd easily enough; it was still humorous to him after all these years how a simple spell of bad weather could take the momentum from a mob so effectively. As they sat there and waited for their leader to speak, they struck him as...indifferent? It was something that he was unaccustomed to, it was if they didn't care what they had just accomplished, just another task accomplished in a tedious and thankless existence.

He knew exactly what the problem was. He never could say that he and Gambit were friends, hell he didn't even like him. There was something about his carefree attitude and nonchalance that conflicted with his structured and calculated way of thinking. The man was an enigma to him, he never saw Gambit apply himself, yet everything he did seemed so effortless. From fighting to the simple act of walking, the Cajun executed everything he did with simple grace and agility. At first he thought he was a wild card, that he couldn't be counted on to back his teammates, but every time he thought that the man was so self involved in his own actions, and so oblivious to his surroundings that he was going to get someone killed, he showed up, at exactly the right time as though he knew what was happening all along. It was as if Gambit always knew something that no one else did, and the rest of them were just pawns in some amusing game of chess he was playing with the rest of the world to occupy his time until his next real challenge. Like it was all a pickup game to him, and he was hustling, making everyone underestimate him so that he could sweep in at the end and score a stunning victory, and the most annoying part about it, the part that grated on his nerves more than anything, is that he would never let you hear the end of it. And by making a production out of every valuable thing that he did, he managed to take some of the value away from it. In the end, everyone was too distracted by the bravado to even remember the act behind it. In fact the more he thought about it, and he had been thinking about it for the months that the Cajun had been gone, the more he came to realize how easily he had fooled them all.

"Alright people, I think this has gone on long enough", he surveyed the room and was met by empty stares and confusion. The only one who seemed to have an inkling of what his thoughts were was Logan who answered with a snort, "bout time slim".

"And just what in tha hell are ya'll talkin 'bout"? Rogue stood from her chair, the emotions that she had been concealing since Antarctica were rising toward the surface, her question was a veiled tactic to calm her own apprehension, she had been anticipating this moment for some time.

"You know exactly what were talkin' bout darlin', it's past time we quit dancin round the issue and face facts, Gumbos gone and he aint comin back".

A gentle mist formed outside and moisture beaded on the window, you didn't have to look at Ororo to know that tears were welling in her sad eyes. It was often the case anytime Remy's name was mentioned as of late.

"Do not presume to speak of things that you do not know Logan, If my brother were no longer walking this earth I would know, if he had died a piece of me would have died with him". Suddenly Lighting flashed outside and was followed by a crack of thunder that shook the mansion through its foundation, "and do not think for one instant that if that were the case I would not hold those responsible accountable for their actions". At that statement, Ororo leveled her icy gaze on Rogue, a promise of things to come, suddenly to Rogue her future didn't look very optimistic.

"Ya'll don't understand! Remy wanted me to leave him! I couldn't stand it, I didn't think it was possible for someone to hate themselves so much! I loved that damn swamp rat, dontchall think that I would take it back if I could? The guilt and the pain was more than I could take, I wish I could have been stronger, but I couldn't, after I absorbed him he took ovah, I didn't leave Remy, he left his own self! I hate him for that, I hate him for makin me leave him to die!"

Bobby Drake was tired of this charade, tired of everyone mourning a worthless piece of trash that didn't deserve their sympathy or regrets. He had hated Gambit since day one, he was everything that he wasn't, confident in all his actions, with women, with fighting, with life. He was accepted onto the team with no stipulations, a position that he had to work for, and even though he hated to admit it, even though it sickened him and kept him up at nights, even though it was the source of an endless pool of jelousy, Bobby knew who the more valuable member to the team had been.

"Who cares anyways? That damn traitor got what he deserved! You all seem to be forgetting why Rogue left him there in the first place! He was responsible for the Morlock Massacre, I don't care how guilty he felt about it, if he was half as remorseful as he had cause to be he should have ended his worthless life years ago and saved us the trouble. If I find out that the cockroach did manage to somehow sleaze his way out of this one I would gladly finish the job myself!"

Bobby almost finished that last thought, the words were at the point where they had already formed into thought and were poised on his lips for release, that's how quick Wolverine closed the distance from the other side of the room. His movement was so quick and his rage so complete that he got all the way to the point where three metallic claws were poised to take life from one very unfortunate young mutant. It was then that Jean Grey had the wisdom to use her telekinesis and stop a strike that no one in the room was certain whether or not Wolverine was about to deliver. In Bobby's mind, this did little to alleviate the situation, as he stood there, pinned against the wall by one of wolverines hands with the other poised to strike, he realized that some words were better left unspoken. The fear in his eyes was evident to everyone in the room as he listened to Logans next words very carefully, In a somewhat controlled rage the words came out as short, forceful warnings of painful death to come,

"Drake, If I ever here ya say anythin like that again about Gumbo or anyone else on this team, nothin in this world will keep me from makin sure ya never make that mistake again." After a few brief seconds that seemed like eternity, Wolverine backed off of Bobby and let him slide to the floor, a hand going instinctively to his offended throat, and everyone in the room visibly relaxed. None more so than Warren Worthington, who's only reason for not uttering the same sentiments as Bobby was that he beat him to it, and after surveying Wolverine's reaction he couldn't say that he was sorry he didn't.

"Ok, I think it would be best if everyone just calmed down for a moment so we can figure out what we are going to do about this situation", all eyes turned back to Cyclops, and more than a few were in disbelief. Rogue was the first to express the same thoughts that were shared by the rest of the group, "What were gunna do? Where have you been the last six months sugah? I went back myself and looked for him, Storm has been more than once and Jean has had Cerebro workin non stop tryin' to find him, there aint nothin' left to do!" At that startling realization Rogue came to terms with the finality of the situation, months of denial had finally caught up to her and she did the only thing she could think to do, she left the room in a blur of tears and sobs.

"Its true Scott, I have searched the Astral Plane a countless number of times looking for a sign of Gambit, but truth be told the man is a mental ghost, even with psychics that have strong shields you can find some trace, a blank spot on the plane where their signature should register, but with Remy it is simply as if he is not there at all". Jean had spoken the words that the ones who were still hopefully of Remy's return were afraid to here, if he wasn't there, then there was a good chance that it was because he was dead.

This did not escape Jean's awareness however and she was quick to clarify, "that does not mean that Gambit is no longer alive, he has displayed this particular ability since he became apart of the team, that's part of the reason he always seemed to posses the uncanny ability to show up last whenever we are all called back to the mansion. We simply cannot reach him telepathically, the best I could ever manage was to send a shout in the general direction I believed him to be and hope that he felt like answering".

"Well I for one refuse to believe that Remy is gone, we failed to find him in Antartica because he managed to escape his frozen prison, and my bright lady will return him to me".

"Ororo I feel the same way, and I promise you that we will not give up searching for Gambit until all avenues are exhausted, wolverine, is there anyway that you can get in touch with some of your contacts to find out if Gambit has resurfaced?"

"Slim you don't understand, fer a man to resurfance it would hafta imply that he was ever surfaced in the first place, Gumbo don't operate like that. If Jean thinks he's a mental ghost then you otta try trackin the guy in the real world, the man don't exist, he's a rumour. I got contacts that go deep, as deep as it gets on any side, government, crime syndicates, mercenaries, you name it, and even to those guys Gambit is just a name attached to a legend. He's the guy you try to get when you need the impossible, information, espionage, theft, you name it, if it can't be done then Gambit is the guy you get. The only problem is no one knows how to get in touch with him, you don't go to him, he comes to you."

"Can we put out the word that we are in need of his services?", Cyclops was beginning to get hopeful that they were on to something.

"We could, but it don't mean Jack. From what intel I could manage to gather he only operates through intermidiaries, and even then he never uses the same one twice. Plus the guys I talked to say the man does his homework, he's meticulous to the point of being paranoid, by the time he takes a job he knows more about you and what you want than you do yerself. One guy told me a story that he heard, said he heard of a guy who wanted to hire Gumbo fer some sort of corporate espionage, before he could get his contacts together to try and bring the Cajun in he shows up at his penthouse to negotiate the price of his services, the guy thought it was real strange considerin that he heard Gambit don't ever deal with clientele on a one on one basis. By the time they had negotiated a price Gumbo slapped the file down on the guys desk, laughed, then disappeared into thin air. He knew what the guy wanted before he even put the contract out, said the most unnerving thing about it was that despite talking to him face to face, he never really even saw what he looked like, as if the shadows moved just for him. It even kinda creeped me out".

All hope that Cyclops had at that moment was quickly dispersed, "so basically if we put out word the only way that he will find us is if he actually wanted to, and if he did he would have already done so".

"Now yer gettin it cyke".

Summers slumped down in his chair, he came to the realization that it was going to take nothing short of a miracle to find a man who not only does not want to be found, but by all accounts dosen't exist.


	2. The Resurgance

**Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men or Remy, if I did I would actually use him in a story for once.**

**Thanks for the reviews. Hawaiichick you're my first reviewer ever, thanks for not telling me I suck.**

**Chapter 2, The Resurgance**

Three jobs in three days. Three jobs that should have taken weeks of tedious planning to pull off. Three different women in three days, all beautiful, all nameless, all with deep emerald eyes. Three bottles of bourbon in three days, and three mind splitting hangovers to match. He felt a ripple move through his spatial awareness and threw up a silent prayer that his latest conquest would not awaken before he could silently slip out her front door unnoticed. He briefly reached out with his empathy and gently brushed her mind, he felt calmness, contentment; she was still asleep. He gave a quick thanks to the gods of debauchery and stealthily slipped out of bed, trying to remember exactly where she threw his clothes.

He was getting reckless and he knew it. He had been working without a name since his return to the profession, trying to keep a low profile until he got his bearings back, only taking his first two contracts under condition of anonymity, but he knew he would not go unnoticed for very much longer, especially after the stunt he pulled last night.

The first two were refreshers, B & E jobs that were well beneath his skills, it would have taken a lesser thief months to pull them off but Remy was not so far removed from the business that he had digressed that much. No one should notice that they were pulled off only one night apart by the same person; they weren't difficult enough to warrant attention from anyone in the upper echelon of the thieving business.

But when his head cleared from the fog of a bourbon induced hangover, he was more than a little worried that he had prematurely tipped his hand with the job he pulled last night, he might as well have left a business card. There were a handful of people in the world who could have pulled that job off, a group that played a constant game of one-upmanship, if none of the others laid claim to the job then they would all begin to wonder, and eventually all fingers would point to him, to the legendary Gambit.

And there he was, stuck with a minting press that he stole from the Federal Reserve that no one had put out a contract for. He tried to retrace his steps, follow the twisted and incoherent logic that led him to his current situation, to try and grasp some concept of an idea as to why he thought stealing one of the U.S. government's most valued and highly guarded treasures was an ideal score. He was certain that he wouldn't have too much trouble finding a buyer, anyone of the numerous mob bossed jockeying for position in New York's underworld would ransom their own families to get a hold of the thing, with his connections getting in touch with them would be no problem at all. Hell, he could even ransom it back to the government if he didn't despise them so much.

It wasn't that he did the job; it was the conditions under which he did the job that truly bothered him. It was done almost on a whim, with barely any planning or scouting before hand. He went in blind, no blueprints, no floor plans and only his basic set of tools that he carried with him everywhere, he went in unprepared, and Remy Lebeau never goes into any situation unprepared.

As he slipped out the front door without making a sound he thought about how foreign the whole situation seemed to him,

'_You been slippin' Lebeau, never done notin' so stupid before when it comes to work, gunna get yo'self pinched if you keep takin' risk like dat fo no reason. What de hell posses'd you ta do somethin' like dat anyhow?_ '

Even as he asked himself the question he knew the answer, he did it because it was the rush and exhilaration of a job that he knew could get him caught, where he knew one wrong move would get him killed. Even flawless execution wasn't enough, he couldn't pull it off without at least some small measure of luck, and amidst all the turmoil and excitement he could manage for one small moment to forget that he had committed atrocities that guaranteed him a reserved spot in the deepest circles of hell. Small moments of relief from his guilt were all he lived for these days, the excitement of a pinch to override it, the release he felt when he was with a woman that made him forget it, and the numbness to it that he found in the bottom of a bottle, that made him just not care.

But now that he so foolishly announced his resurgence people would begin looking for him, seeking out his talents and his services, that was not how he wanted to cement his climb to the top. He wanted to pick the jobs he would do, only top shelf premier jobs that would further the reputation of Gambit, jobs that wouldn't leave any doubt as to who the best thief in the world was. Now he would have people looking for him, trying to find him, throwing sums of money so large at him that it would be almost impossible to turn down. He knew it would happen because he had already lived it, before he joined the X-men he was always gainfully employed, always had a contract to work on, his legend was growing as an operative who could and would take any contract and never fail. That's when he started being approached with less than desirable jobs, jobs that didn't sit well with him once accomplished because the payment no matter how exorbitant was never worth the guilt it caused him. Each small step he took toward oblivion brought him closer to the one who was behind his ultimate crime, Sinister. Then he met Ororo and went back with her to play superhero with the X-men, to seek some type of atonement. It was then that he started picking and choosing his contracts, taking the most elite, placing himself in the upper ranks of thieves, this is when he became untouchable and turned into a legend.

Remy was having an internal crisis, conflicting thoughts were circulating in his mind as to how he was going to handle his career.

'_Mon dieu homme, you ain' goin' back ta dat neva again, contract jobs only, an clean ones at dat. Last t'ing I need is endin' up in the employment of another sinister.'_

_Merde, who you kiddin t'ief, you ain' got no soul left to save, only t'ing in dis whole world dat any one got any use fo you is stealin', an now you don' even wanna put your whole self into dat. Non, mebbe you right, mebbe you picked up a few useful t'ings from stormy afterall, jus' cause you ain' got notin' to live fo don' mean you gotta spread de pain around and drag other folks down wit you_.'

As he walked through the lobby of the hotel he was staying in the owners daughter who was working the front desk gave him a wistful glance, he didn't have to be an empathic to understand what she was feeling.

After he got back from Antarctica he was leaner than he was before, less muscular. His face was gaunt and he had perpetual black circles under his eyes, he was less carefree, the feelings of lightheartedness that used to roll off of him with his emphatic senses were less carefree and joyful, now those around him picked up a more somber vibe tinged with hopelessness, all of this still did little to take away from his natural charm and attractiveness.

"Hey chere, how's my favorite 'otel clerk doin' today?"

The blushing girl barely stifled a giggle as she felt the heat spread through her body, "I'm doing fine, just tired of sitting behind this desk all day."

"It's a crime petit, someone as beautiful as yo'self has no business bein' kept behin' a desk all day, Remy is surprised dat the hommes ain' riotin' in the streets over bein' denied the company of such a femme belle as yo'self."

This was more than the girl could handle and she quickly lost her composure, "Se la vie non chere? Remy be seein' you, au revoir."

As Remy walked down the hall to his room she watched him with lustful thoughts in her head, she was so enamored with the exchange that the thought of asking him for the upcoming weeks rent slowly faded to the back of her mind.

Remy opened the door to his modest room, he made sure to pick a place that was less than extravagant, he didn't need any unwanted attention, he also made sure it wasn't to seedy as to avoid any unnecessary scrutiny from the local law enforcement. They were always making rounds in the more suspect locales that were pay by the hour, looking for informants and making a quick bust to squeeze for information. The last thing he wanted was for some uniform to get lucky and notice something that would make him suspicious. The conversations that would spread throughout the underworld brought a wry smile to his lips, '_Did you hear about Gambit? Got busted by one of New Yorks finest! A regular uniform took him down!_' He could have stayed at any one of the numerous guild safe houses scattered throughout the city, but then the guild could keep tabs on him, and Remy hated being tracked by anyone.

He sat down and logged onto his laptop that was more valuable than most people's homes, he paid good money in order to ensure that his systems encryption couldn't be traced or hacked by even the most skilled computer experts. _Ttime to hit the message boards an' find the next mark, ain shit fo contracts lately, hopefully t'ings start pickin' up and I can find somethin' suitable to my talents, mebbe find a fence fo dis damn mint while I'm at it.'_

He scrolled down the message board, deciphering the various codes that alluded to possible jobs he could take, "notin' to interestin' so far" he mumbled, that's when he saw it, something that caught his eye and provided hope for another distraction.

'For Sale: Mint condition 1979 Stingray Corvette, low mileage. Revamped with electronic fuel injection for optimized performance, more information available on inquiry, excellent price. Serious buyers only! Leave a post with your contact info if interested.'

To almost anyone reading the post on this particular website it would look like a simple sales add, but to someone in Remy's line of work it told an entirely different story.

'Wanted: Master Thief to fill contract, high risk, unknown premier upgraded security system with human guards for added obstacles. Information retrieval, high paying job, journeymen and apprentices need not apply, respond back in proper code to initiate contact.'

Remy rifled through his sent items to see which encrypted email addresses he had already used, after determining which new account he had that had no contract attached to it he replied:

'I'm inquiring about your add for the Stingray Corvette. Do you have performance specs for the engine or record of the previous owner? I would like to know more about the Car before I commit to buying. Please contact me at demoneyes1a23j#.lxs.'

As Remy hit post, the proffer of the job immediately saw his response:

'I saw your contract for a master thief, what are the details and who is it on? I need details before I'll discuss the price.'

Remy continued to scroll down the message board, if this job didn't turn out it was always wise to have options.

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An eerie red flash preceded loud warning klaxons and a steak of light that glanced of Rogue's shoulder sent her falling from the air. Cyclops audibly sighed and uttered the command "Cerebro, end simulation", the security system protecting the simulated FOH base was causing more problems for his team than they were prepared for.

"What in tha hell was that! We've ran this durn simulation a hunred times befoah an I dont remembah no damn security system, you changin' things up on us Cyclops?" Rogue was visibly shaken after the unexpected laser took her from flight; she wasn't so much physically hurt as she was annoyed that she was caught off guard.

"Whats wrong darlin', can't improvise?" Logan had a slight grin on his face, obviously amused at his teammate's frustration.

"Can it metal man, if this was fo real we woulda know about some damn security system."

Summers knew he needed to stop this bickering before it got out of hand, "People, this is the same exact simulation that we have ran a dozen times before, no changes have been made, the only difference is that usually the security system has been neutralized before we make our attack", he didn't need to delve into details as to how the security system was neutralized, everyone present picked up on the hint that Gambit had been the one operating in the shadows to take care of anything unexpected.

With an audible snort wolverine put words to the thought in everyone's mind, "Looks like Gumbo was doin' a little more than he let on".

Jean was as surprised as everyone else and also slightly amused. "If Gambit was taking care of the security system then why didn't anyone know about it, the man could hardly do anything without drawing attention to it, I would have thought if Gambit were the one responsible for something like this we would have heard about it…… relentlessly".

Hank McCoy was oddly silent anytime reference was made to Gambit. It took him some time to logically sort through his emotions on his wayward friend, and when he did he was left with only one; guilt. He had always held a certain fondness for Remy, his easy going manner and well placed quips that always seemed to alleviate tension did not go unnoticed by the man. He even found his incessant refusal to undergo any type of medical treatment or examination somewhat amusing if not curious, that is when it didn't down right frustrate him.

The scientist in him that analytically examined everything always suspected that there was something more to Remy. He was often the only one to notice the late hours that Gambit kept because he would be toiling away in his lab until the odd hours of the night when he would notice Remy on the security screen come sauntering in from a late night of who knows what, most likely reeking of booze and cheap perfume. Most energy converters that hank knew of needed regular hours of rest just to keep themselves and their powers operating at a regular capacity, but unless Remy had found a way to put extra hours in the day it seemed that he defied these parameters. No matter what hours the man kept he always seemed to be a boundless source of energy, something hank truly envied.

Then there were the danger room readouts, as the team physician it was his duty to monitor team vitals while engaged in training, additionally he would check the logs to see if anyone had been injured during individual training. He always took it as a slight that it was necessary for him to perform this extra duty because for some reason the X-men had to be forced to undergo examination and would never do so voluntarily. Remy's vitals always seemed on par with what Hank had on record, except for once.

He had headed down to the danger room to make his weekly review of the training logs when he stumbled upon gambit engaged in a solo training session, if he remembered correctly it was after one his more verbal and heated arguments with Rogue in their on again off again relationship, and judging from his activity it seemed that it was currently off again. As Hank was looking at the readout something struck him as odd, at first he couldn't place it, but when he did he couldn't believe how he didn't notice it immediately. Gambit wasn't running a solo training session; he was engaged in a full team session with safeties off. But that wasn't what caught Henry's attention the most, what truly baffled him was the Cajuns readouts, they were off the charts. His movements were twice as fast as he had ever seen them, and his energy readouts were more akin to something Magneto would display than an alpha class mutant such as Remy would. He was so dumbfounded by what he was seeing that it barely registered when Remy gave the termination command, "Cerebro, end simulation, additional code Gambit-Omega-3X3". When Gambit exited into control room Hank confronted him with his questions, "Remy, I would find it most helpful if you could shed some light on the anomalies of your danger room session", "What you talkin' bout hank?, Remy was jus' runnin' a trainin' session, same as always". "But my dear boy, just take a look at these readouts", and when hank returned his gaze to the monitor, nothing was out of the ordinary, it was a mirror image of every other simulation the Cajun had ever ran, "Mebbe it was jus' a glitch in the system non?", and with a wink and a calming grin the Cajun glided out of the room, watching the man move you would have never guessed that he just finished a workout that would put most Olympic athletes out of commission. Far from satisfied but left at a dead end road Hank had to concede the mystery and return to his regular duties.

"Perhaps I can provide some insight to our Acadian friends lack of usual bravado on this particular occasion, it would seem to me that for all of his arrogant fruitions, Remy never called attention to an action that wasn't already noticed by the rest of the team".

With that thought more than a few of the X-men found themselves re-evaluating their opinion of Remy Lebeau, a man so seemingly mysterious that it took him leaving before anyone could come to any type of conclusion on his seemingly erratic behavior, that perhaps wasn't so erratic after all. Inversely, the other half that was still bitter about his betrayal only grew more infuriated about his omission. To them it was just one more thing that he was hiding, adding to the list of wrongs that they perceived him to have committed. Jean picked up the numerous conflicting thoughts and communicated them to Scott, wisely the leader intervened before anyone could slip to far into their brooding, "All right people, lets run it again, this time Wolverine and Storm take out the security system before we begin our attack, were going to have to find ways to fill in the gaps until Gambit comes home."

The last phrase was not lost on Storm who nodded her appreciation before she took flight, nor was it lost on Warren Worthington before he cast an icy stare accompanied by a disgusted sneer toward Scott before he did the same.


	3. The Contract

Disclaimer: If you go to the Marvel website and look under character bios Gambit it always in the top 10 for searches, right now he's sitting at number serven , the other six that are ahead of him have all been featured in major motion pictures. You think that Marvel would get a freaking clue and realize that he's a fan favorite and start writing him in more but there to dense to understand. Anyways I dont own these characters and this is just to fill in the time until Blind Sight gets updated.

**The Contract**

Emile Scranton had been acting as a contractor for his entire adult life. He had served as an intermediary between clients and operators for enough time to have gained the respect of individuals on both sides. He was somewhat proud of the fact that through all of his dealings he managed to maintain an aura of professionalism that was crucial to his business. He always took the same commission no matter what the job and left no room for negotiation, this was far more for his own benefit than the clients, it eliminated any need for face to face negotiations over price that would provide a forum for his customers to try and put pressure on him or apply intimidation tactics. Scranton ran his one man operation with ruthless efficiency that relied heavily on separation and strict unyielding rules of operating procedure that left no room what so ever for deviation. He was firmly confident in the premise that he and his rules were adhered to and respected, no client who ever desired to business with him would violate his code.

So to say that he was surprised when he walked into his office and found an unrecognizable man sitting at his desk would be an understatement. After his initial shock Scranton searched for a shred of courage or stupidity that would allow him to speak, "Who are you and what are you doing in my office?" He moved to turn on the light switch; the only result of the action was a resounding click of plastic slapping against plastic without the usual and expected accompaniment of light.

In an eerily level tone with no inflection that seemed more computer than human the intruder spoke, "Mr. Scranton, please have a seat, we have much to discuss".

Scranton briefly thought about running, this thought was followed by a more foolish internal query of how long it would take him to get to the handgun he kept in the box that was sitting on the third row of his bookcase.

As if he read his mind the stranger responded to his non-verbalized questions, "Mr. Scranton, you will find that your useless weapon is no longer in its place and if you run I will only find you again, and exact retribution for putting me through the trouble, I assure you that causing you harm would provide no added benefit to me, therefore I would hardly put myself through the trouble, so please sit".

Realizing there was little he could do and wanting to end this meeting as soon as possible he warily made his was over to a chair in front of his desk. There was a reason that he never dealt with customers face to face, it was this very situation that caused him to be so meticulous and insistent in the way that he did business. Emile Scranton did not like confrontation and was very susceptible to intimidation tactics. Being firm with someone on the opposite end of a modem from the relative safety of his own home was one thing, doing it in a face to face meeting was an entirely different game, one that he did not want to play. He recognized immediately what had happened, with one encounter this man had put him on the defensive, he was assuming a dominant posture in his chair, making him feel like he was the intruder in his own office, and it scared the crap out of him.

"Mr. Scranton you recently posted a contract for me, I would like to inquire about the status of that contract".

He shifted uneasily in his chair; he knew he still had an obligation to protect his clients and operators from outside inquiry and from gaining too much knowledge about each other, at least through him anyways. Yet he had a feeling that this man would get the information he wanted one way or another, he didn't want to find out what that other way was.

"I post quite a few contracts, if you want information on yours you should channel your questions through the appropriate avenues, the same way you contacted me initially". '_There, maybe if I keep this professional and curt he'll back down'. _

"I find that method tedious and ineffective; I also felt you may need some…..persuasion to answer truthfully'.

And there it was, the veiled threat of physical harm that Scranton knew would come eventually, and he had nothing to counter with. '_Maybe his questions aren't that intrusive and I can get out of this with my reputation still intact'._

"Which contract? I'll need the license plate number from the car and also the VIN number, on top of that I'll also need the name that is on the title and the insurance policy number. And I care little about what you threaten me with, if you cannot provide me with this information then we have little left to discuss."

"Ah yes of course, you contractors have proven to be quite resourceful with your coded messages, very well. The job was for information retrieval from a government compound equipped with Level I security that is maintained on an unknown rotating schedule by the 3 of the top Security Firms in the world, the contract number is 600015587. The name on the contract is Genome and the password is acquisition".

Scranton recognized the contract immediately; it was the most lucrative and difficult contract he had ever put out, which also meant it would be the hardest one to fill. He had expected to take sometime to find a fit, but was pleasantly surprised when his add was answered right away by several interested parties along with an anonymous buyer, however there was no reason to divulge any information unnecessarily. "You only initiated that contract less than a week ago and you asked for a Master Thief, they aren't exactly hanging round picking pockets on every street corner, it will take some time".

"Has anyone replied back on the contract yet? You must understand this is very important to me, it will take a very special kind of operative with unique skills to accomplish this job." The man was growing impatient with Scranton's obvious ploy to avoid his line of questioning.

"Yes I am aware, I still have the dossier that you provided me with, although I must say, your refusal to allow me to post the details of the contract will make it even more difficult to track down a thief who can meet these…..qualifications."

"Yes, well I do not intend to announce my business to the entire criminal community, but that is none of your concern, now please answer my question, I grow impatient".

Scranton did not like the implications of the undertone that was attached to his last statement, since he really had no damning information to give anyways he decided to give this guy what he wanted so he could end this encounter ASAP.

"I've gotten a few replies already, regulars that I'm familiar with, mostly upstarts that want to make a name for themselves. I recognized most of the names, solid enough operatives but hardly the caliber you require, most of them backed down when I explained the degree of difficulty. There was one who responded that I didn't recognize, figured he was another upstart because his tag didn't have any previous contracts attached to it, we keep a close eye on those things within the community. I didn't bother to respond with any information as per our agreement to keep the details confidential until a suitable operative was found".

The man was still, unmoving as the foundation of the office he was occupying, Scranton briefly wondered if the man had fallen asleep, but the lack of any signs of breathing led him more to believe that he was dead. Scranton was snapped out of his contemplative state when the mysterious stranger spoke.

"I would like you to give the full details of the contract to this anonymous buyer, if he is who I have a feeling he is, he is exactly the man I am looking for".

"But what if he isn't, what about your desire to keep the details private? I guarantee that if you let the cat out of the bag and this isn't the guy you think it is the details will be plastered across the boards in less than an hour."

"Mr. Scranton, if the individual is not who I think he is then I will simply have to eliminate him, the contract clearly called for a Master Thief did it not? He should know better than to inquire about matters that do not concern him, if the individual does not accept the contract after provided with the details you **will **provide me with his contact info and I will rectify the situation. I will be in touch".

The statement was made with such finality and confidence that it left little doubt in Scranton's mind whether or not the man could carry out his intended plan of action. He barely noticed the stranger exit his office, almost as if he was confused for that moment, caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness. When his head finally cleared and he began to recall the meeting and its implications, it was a full 30 minutes before his viselike grip loosed from the cushioned arms of his chair, and another hour after that before he found the courage to stand. Whether this anonymous operative was the one the stranger was looking for or not, he suddenly felt a great deal of pity for the man.

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The simple activity of tending her garden that used to bring so much joy into her life now seemed like a hollow and empty task bereft of any pleasure or solace that it used to provide. Seeing her plants that she cared for so much grow and blossom into something more only served to remind her of the emptiness that her kindred brother's absence had left in her heart. Like her plants, Remy too had grown and blossomed under her watchful eye and calculated tending. He had managed to become so much more than what he was when she first met him. Like the plants in her garden, the qualities and potential had always been there, it only took someone to nurture and show the possibility of security and success in a cold world to bring those traits to the surface. She once believed that she had shown Remy these things, and felt in her heart that he had managed to shed his past and step into the light. He had proved himself time and time again to be the hero that she knew he was, yet still managed to keep the same endearing qualities of a scoundrel that drew her to him all those years ago. Then, with one mistake, one action they all proved it to be a lie, an impossible illusion that was presented to him to make him believe that a better life was possible, that redemption was within his grasp, and the long sought for family that she knew he craved in his heart had finally been attainable. Not for the first time she wondered with whom the real betrayal lied, the tears that watered her magnolias provided all the answer to her questions she needed.

"Ya know Ro', even flowers need a little alone time, ya keep spendin' all yer time out here in the garden and their likely to pull up roots and run away from home.", Wolverines gruff voice would not usually have a calming effect on most people like he intended it to at his particular moment, however she had grown accustomed to the man's rough exterior and blunt ways over the years and appreciated the gesture for what it was.

"And this is coming from a man who spends weeks at a time missing so that he may commune with nature, honestly Logan I sometimes wonder if you prefer wildlife to actual human companionship." The words were spoken with a soft light heartedness that alleviated the awkwardness that Logan usually felt when he tried to provide solace to one of his teammates.

"Still thinkin' bout Gumbo huh?"

"Yes Logan, unlike so many of our other teammates I do not believe that Remy has ceased to live". The words were pointed and accusatory, tinged with malice and denial.

"Listen darlin', I think ya took what I said in the war room the wrong way", he was clearly aggravated, Wolverine made it a point to always be as blunt as possible with his words and intentions, he did not like being misunderstood.

"When I said Gumbo is gone and he ain't comin' back, that's exactly what I meant, don't read to far into it. I never said I thought he was dead", then in a softer tone that was foreign to the man he added, "Could ya really blame him after what was done to him, would you come back? Would any of us?"

"No I suppose not, but I would have thought, at least I hoped that he would contact me to let me know that he was still alive, after all that we went through together and the bond that we shared, I was certain that he would at least get me a message to ease my worry".

"Ro', for all Gumbo knows ya could hate his guts right now, he was already rejected by us once, I doubt he's ready for that kind of pain again, maybe one day he'll come back to us, but I doubt it will be anytime soon".

"And what of you Logan, would you turn him away like so many others here would?" The look in her eyes was pleading, searching for an ally in the conflict that was slowly tearing the X-men apart.

"It ain't no secret that me and the Cajun weren't ever the best of friends. A lot of it was pride on both our parts, I ain't never met a man who could best me in a fair fight like he could, even though most of the time he managed to turn it unfair. And he ain't never had no one to cut through the bullshit that he was always throwin' around, I think it unnerved him that I could smell his lies and he couldn't smooth talk me like I was some bar whore the way he could the rest of ya. But we had respect for one another, I knew he was going to be there in a pinch, and there ain't no one in this world I'd rather have watchin my back in a fight than the Cajun. And even though I could tell when he was hidin' somethin' I kept my mouth shut cause it weren't none of my buisiness, and he recognized and appreciated that. Truth is the past is the past, what he did weren't nothing worse than what I've done, only he has it worse, cause he remembers every sin he ever commited, and I've had the luxury of fergittin mine. I wan't em back the same as yer'self, except I wan't em back because he's a damn good fighter and I'd like to have em watchin' my back again."

Far from what Ororo had expected from the man it was still more than she thought was forthcoming. She resigned herself to being satisfied with his answer and acknowledged his confession with a smile and slight nod while she went back to her gardening, which for the rest of the day at least, leaned more toward enjoyable than tedious.

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He awoke in a fit of coughing, neon lights shining through the curtains of his room and refracting off scattered liquor bottles that were strewn haphazardly across the floor. His recent habit of binge drinking had done little to help him recover from his recent bout of pneumonia, but the pain the bourbon caused as it slid down his throat and burned his inflamed esophagus was an acceptable substitute for the emotional pain that in numbed him to. Still half drunk from the night before he rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself of the byproducts from a night of heavy boozing. As he stood up he realized it was too fast when the room began to spin and he doubled over in a dry heave, as he wretched on all fours he was forced to wonder when the last time was that he had a decent meal, and not to his surprise he couldn't remember.

'_Dieu homme, you aint gonna get no better if ya don' eat, can' be takin' primier contracts if you ain' in primier shape non?'_

After a quick shower and a few aspirins Remy made his way over to his computer and logged in. He checked the email account that he had given the contractor and saw a response with a file attached. A quick scan on the document validated its authenticity and he opened the file. It was the specs of the job he had enquired about, he was slightly wary of such an open display of trust. He knew this particular contractor, he had a good reputation as being cautious, that was part of the reason that Remy used him, it was quite unlike him to offer information so freely. He had at least expected some back and forth before he could convince the man to give him the contract if not the details, or maybe to refuse him out right unless he revealed his identity, but to openly place his trust in an unknown wearied the man and gave him cause for suspicion. Did the contractor know who he was? No that wasn't possible, Remy was too careful, paid too much attention to even the most miniscule of details to ensure his tracks were covered. That left him with few options for conclusions, either this contractor had lost a step, or the third party behind it was careless enough give the contractor freedom of information. A third thought crossed the thief's mind but he quickly dismissed it as paranoia, there is no way that someone could be trying to draw him out, it was too soon, even after his last debacle.

The thing was, after reviewing the file he knew this was exactly the job that he would have publically made his comeback on. It was perfect, if the contractor or backer of the job didn't know who he was, they soon would. It's not like it would matter anyways, everyone in the community would know who had pulled it off. There were certain jobs that anyone could pull off, low level entry type stuff, and then there were those that took experience, the type that a seasoned journeyman would be required to handle. Then there were jobs that only a few could handle, jobs that had certain names or phrases attached to the contract so that others knew t it was out of their league. Then there was this job, a step above, and after reading the file he knew there was only one thief on the planet that could make the score, and he knew exactly who it was. The name Gambit would soon be back in circulation, he was not only going to honor this contract, he was going to do it with his own signature style. When he was finished, people would whisper the legend of his name even more reverently and mysterious than before, and this time there would be a subtitle attached. Like genius and Einstein, The Sistine Chapel and Michelangelo, the name Gambit would become synonymous with the phrase "best thief in the world".


	4. Infiltration

**Disclaimer: I do not own any marvel characters and I'm making no money off of this.**

**A/N: I know its slow going but it was never ment to be a short fic, all the questions will be answered eventually. Thanks for reading!**

**Ch 4: Infiltration **

Rogue had lost some of the sparkle that used to permeate within her eyes; her once lively step was a little slower, more pronounced, as if she was walking through a thicker median than the rest of the world. Those that did not know the sassy southerner would simply think that she was dignified, or that she had perhaps resigned herself to whatever station in life she had found herself in and accepted her role with quite fortitude. But those that did know her, those that enjoyed her once inextinguishable spark and relentless passion toward life recognized it for what it was; she was depressed, heartbroken, guilty, and above all tired.

She had experienced sleepiness nights before, the results of nightmares from memories of her own misdeeds and those of others. She was no saint and carried with her the same burden of guilt that all people who have reformed from a life of bad choices shared. She remembered nightmares caused by the psyche of Sabertooth, witnessing his mindless and ferocious attacks, experiencing the satisfaction he received as he reveled in his victim's pain and misery, and waking up sick to her stomach because for that one moment, she shared in his ecstasy.

But those memories were brief and fleeting, quickly pushed to the back of her mind and dominated by her own will, upon waking they were like any dream, barely able to catch coherent glimpse of a larger picture. These dreams as of late were different; they were saturated with emotions, overbearing emotions that infiltrated her senses until she confused them with her own.

She felt fear, staring up from an operating table, a hazy memory that she couldn't place. Sharp pointed teeth and the knowledge that her life was forfeit, hopelessness bearing down on her as she came to the realization that she was little more than a specimen. The worst dreams always had the same resounding trait, two cold and distant red points of light; if they could talk they would tell you that they were trying to pass for a set of eyes, neither kind nor hard but devoid of all emotion, just simply there. And always, whether she was seeing the death of a lover that she had used, or her wife, or the innocents that she led the marauders to or any other atrocity that she had committed or witnessed, she was overcome with a stifling sense of guilt. That is what separated these dreams from the rest, the raw unfiltered suffocating emotions. The sparkle was gone from her eyes because she could not remember the last time she woke up without tears in them.

She wondered if Xavier could have helped her if he was still with the team, but after Onslaught he was no where to be found, locked away in a secret facility somewhere, and the one person that might possibly have the contacts to find out where he was being held was nowhere to be found.

_'thats all mah fault to, everythin' I touch turns ta crap, I can't do nothin' right, tha professah is gone and Remy might be dead fo all I know an it's all cause of me'_.

She continued to have self degrading thoughts that were only interrupted by an occasional sob. It was sometime later before she realized that she had fallen into the same pit of despair that she had been cycling through for months.

'_snap out of it girl! This ain't even ya own feelin's your cryin ovah!_'

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and realized just how heavy a toll the recent events in her life had taken on her. She had never been one to give up, never one to wallow in self pity for other to see. More than once she had found herself slipping into and endless reverie of self doubt and angst, and each time she had managed to claw her way back to self sufficiency. This time would be no different. She didn't replay the memories in her mind this time, but the effects that those memories had on her, she realized that there was only one person who could help her sort through these emotions, one person who could help her crawl through the blackness to the promise of light on the other end, and it wasn't Xavier.

With a renewed determination and feeling more like herself than she had in months she set out to find that person, and she would not return until Remy was with her.

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It seemed that no matter who it was that came, how heavy, how light, man or woman; the resounding sound of footsteps always sounded equally loud ricocheting of the metal halls that led to his prison. The door opened, just like it always did, and blinding light poured through the doorway to infiltrate his otherwise dark world. After his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the blurry figure of his latest torturer.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes when he saw her, it was a woman. He sighed to himself, the women were always more forceful with their torture and would not relent until it was clear that he was incapable of taking anymore, then they would go just a little further.

_'Maybe this one will be different...'_

As a group of personnel assistants wheeled in her equipment behind her a wicked smile devoid of all compassion slowly formed on her hardened yet beautiful face, and the man who held compassion for every individual on the planet, who never met a soul that he felt could not be saved knew that his hopes of leniency were sorely misplaced.

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Never one to be patient, especially when it came to work, Scranton had been checking his messages on a half hour interval for the past three days. After the visit from the stranger had put him on edge, he was anxious to have this contract filled, completed and filed away somewhere that he would never have to think about it again. Finally, after checking over and over he saw what he was fervently praying for, a simple message that alleviated a great deal of worry off of his overburdened mind.

RE: 1979 Corvette: 'Sold, I'll contact you when I am ready to pick it up, I'm currently away on business, please hold the car for no longer than six weeks'.

There it was, confirmation, if the package was not delivered in six weeks he was free to pass the contract to another buyer, and with that simple message Scranton knew. He had the suspicion all along, floating in the back of his mind and nagging at his more practical nature. He had reviewed the dossier extensively, and each time he went over it his suspicion only grew until it was cemented firm in his mind, only one person in the entire community would be crazy enough to try and pull this job off. This was a tailored job meant for one individual, and if it was who he was almost certain it was, then his client was in over his head. Pinning down Gambit, if the man actually existed was like trying to put a strangle hold on smoke. From what he heard the man could be all around you at once but barely substantial at the same time, and like smoke he could disappear on the wind. Scranton had his own theories about the myth of Gambit; he thought Gambit was just a made up front that the top conglomerate of operatives used to shirk off responsibility when they had to fill contracts that were suspect. The money would be too good to pass up but the unethical nature of the job and the label that would be attached to the operative who pulled it off would be cause for concern. The separate guilds each had their own code of ethics, but when you dug deep enough and stripped away some of the verbiage they were all basically the same mantra.

He thought of his unexpected visitor that was sitting in his chair no less than 3 days ago and chuckled to himself,

"Good luck catching a man who doesn't exist Mister."

As he rose from his desk to gather the necessary paper work to file with the guild treasury he was met with a focused blast of energy that separated his heart from his chest in a manner so efficient it looked as if a perfect hole had been carved away with a scalpel. He stared at his attacker in confusion with the last few seconds of consciousness left in his short life he saw him step into the light.

"Mister Sinister actually", he stared at the fading light in Scranton's eyes and gave him an inquisitive look; "You couldn't have possibly thought I would leave any loose ends behind?" And as if the very thought of him making a mistake was the most amusing thing in the world to him he let out an eerie laugh.

Sinister's lips parted as he displayed a row of razor sharp teeth, and if he wasn't about to die already, Scranton was certain that he would want to.

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It was deep, as Remy watched the remnants of the file that he had committed to memory burn into nothingness that was the only thought that kept running through his mind. The dossier only held a portion of the story, and a few quick background checks confirmed it. It was only after he dug deeper that he discovered the real intricacies that this job would entail.

The government facility was a front; this was a private organization with a small amount of supposed government funding that only served to provide some legitimacy to their operations. Local law enforcement usually don't investigate government facilities, even the FBI and CIA were out of the loop on the most secret government ops, the facility had that angle covered well. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Three of the top five security firms in the world had devoted most of their resources to providing an airtight network of coverage that a team of the most skilled thieves in the world would have a hard time finding a flaw in, let alone exploiting it.

This would take time; he would have to start at the edges and chip away, starting with the Wiggin & Bean security firm, the leader of the industry. It was a safe bet that if there was a single entity in charge of the security schedule it would be them.

A plan started to formulate in his mind that surprised even himself, which was a monumental task in itself, because if there was one thing you could say about Remy Lebeau it was that he was extremely confident in his abilities, and even that was an understatement. The only way to infiltrate this fortress would be to know every detail about it, and the only way to ensure that would be to work from the inside.

"Dis is gunna be hard homme, Dieu is this gunna be hard. Mais de stories dey gunna tell about dis one when it's over, Mon Dieu!"

He knew he had to get started tomorrow, he knew that the next six weeks were going to be filled with nothing but planning and work, but he also knew something else,

"All work an' no play make Remy a dull homme non? Might as well enjoy de evenin while I still can, mebbe celebrate wit' a bottle o'good bourbon an' a femme to top it off".

He could already see the footholds starting to appear that he would use on his climb to legendary status as the best there ever was, and for the first time in months he was filled with more than a temporary contentment. Perhaps tonight sleep would come easier, perhaps he could get a few hours uninterrupted from the dreams that haunted him incessantly.

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"What do you mean you're pulling resources?! Are you forgetting what I'm paying you for?!" Mr. Pinkney, the Vice President in charge of customer relations for Wiggin & Bean securities visibly winched at the man's outburst. He was not unused to dealing with irate customers, but his familiarity with the subject did nothing to make it less unpleasant.

"Mr. Trask, please understand our situation, while your organization is a valuable customer we have to consider our other customers as well, because we have devoted such a large percentage of our manpower to your operations our ability to provide security to them has become compromised. Just last night three sites that are under our protection were picked clean, three in one night! We have to reduce manning at your site so we can provide adequate coverage to everyone."

Bolivar Trask had settled somewhat over his initial outburst, everything he had worked for all these years was locked away in his facility; a reduction in security was unacceptable. "Well then Mr. Pinkney, I suggest that you hire additional manpower to draw from. Send me the figures on what the extra manning will cost you're company and I will ensure your expenses are covered".

"Mr. Trask, we appreciate the offer and would like nothing more than to oblige but the process of recruitment takes time, there are background checks to conduct, resume's to be researched, references to check. Were not Goldman and Sachs, applications don't come pouring into our office every day, we have to out and actively recruit ex-military, special forces and black ops, and those guys are not always easy to find".

"I agree Mr. Pinkney, all the more reason that you should get started, we wouldn't want any of your other customers to suffer further losses because of your inability to provide them with coverage. We came to your company because you are the best, that is what we are paying for and that is exactly what we expect in return, now if that will be all I have urgent business to attend to".

Trask's abrupt departure left no room for debate and Edward Pinkney realized that he had quite a bit of work to do. Little did he know, at that exact moment a profile was flagged in their database for possible recruitment, Jean Paul Gautreau, French Foreign Legion, current place of residence, New York.

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Remy was exhausted, three jobs in one night. The effort of actually doing the jobs didn't even come close to the effort of preparation he had to make. The timing had to be perfect, this firm was good, and they never took on clients that didn't already have a solid security basis to build from. An entire week had already passed, and for all the planning that he had done he wasn't even past the initial stages of his scheme. He hadn't even begun preparations for breaking the actual facility, he hadn't even gotten the plans of the facility to begin preparations, and he was already pushing his endurance.

If it was any other job he could have taken his time, but this was different, there were jobs within jobs. He couldn't hit one target a week, or even a day to break this firm, it had to be a simultaneous rush, he had to incite panic within the higher levels of management that would force a change, something that he could exploit to gain an advantage or a foothold from. They were just too airtight, too cautious with their information and operations. Even their employees didn't know what was going on within the company. The secretary he seduced was only privy to information regarding her job, besides from telling him what type of coffee the V.P liked she was of little use to him, besides the obvious fringe benefits that particular aspect of the job provided anyways. This made him wonder how the contractor managed to even acquire what information he did.

At least he had something to show for it though; the profile that he had his contact in the DoD place in their data base had caught someone's attention. It was a plus that his profiles status as a ex-French Foreign Legion operative would be easy for him to pull off. It was a basic run of the mill black ops profile with work done in conjunction with the major services Special Forces groups, Army Rangers in Afghanistan, Navy Seals in Haiti and Air Force Special Tactics in the Horn of Africa. Nothing to extravagant but still impressive enough to gain him an interview.

"Time to play de part Jean Paul, time to do what you do bes', look a homme strait in de eye and lie so good even you can' tell dem apart from de trut' no more".

Remy slipped into his duster and put his contacts in, he wasn't sure what their policy was on hiring mutants but there was no reason to tip his hand before he had to. He grabbed his airline tickets to Chicago and headed to the Air Port, with any luck he would never have to step foot in New York again.

Remy was pleasantly surprised when he stepped of the airport and was immediately greeted by a smartly dressed woman in a pinstriped business suit. Her jet black hair was tied back into a no-nonsense bun that screamed professionalism. Despite that he could tell that she knew how to use every asset at her disposal to get whatever she wanted, this was evident in the slightly shorter than necessary skirt and matching jacket that displayed enough cleavage to keep her target captivated. Still, he got the distinct impression that she had risen to her rank because of her skills and little more.

"Mr. Gautreau, let me be the first to welcome you to Chicago, my employer has been looking forward to meeting you."

For a brief moment he considered laying on the charm, nothing that was in his profile would contradict the fact if he did, however it didn't quite seem to fit the character that he had invented, he decided it would be best to play it strictly business-like, for now.

"Please, call me Jean Paul Mrs...?"

"Mrs. Ellison, if you will follow me to the baggage claim we can collect your belongings and be on our way."

"No need chere, I like to travel light."

"Excellent, right this way then please."

An expensive stretch limo with all the amenities awaited them outside. The driver promptly opened the door for him and they were on their way.

"So Jean Paul, your resume is quite impressive, you turned more than a few heads in our recruiting office, it's odd that we had never heard of you before."

"Since it seems dat your so familiar wit my resume den I'm sure you realize dat someone in my line of work can scarcely afford to be noticed." She gave him an inquisitive glance.

"Of course, I understand completely." She opened a manilla folder in front of her and began studying its contents.

"So, it says here that from 99 to 01 you were running ops down in the Horn of Africa with an Air Force Special Tactics unit, that must have been quite an adjustment from working with Seals in Haiti."

"Actually, it was from 2000 to 2001 an dat was before Haiti, and de only difference was de country an de mission, U.S. Special Forces all run de same basic type of ops scheme, dey interchangeable." So the interview had started already, good thing he always did his homework, he knew the real test was yet to come, they couldn't honestly expect to trip him up on something as trivial as his own profile.

"Of course, yes here it is, how careless of me". They completed the rest of the ride in a silence that he guessed was meant to be uncomfortable, but it would take more than a few sloppy questions to unnerve a man who had stared death in the eye and made him blink first. This was a test in itself, no one had ever heard of a jittery special operator, a level head and steady hand on the battlefield equated to an ease of presence that was projected in tense situations of everyday life.

Allison Marsh enjoyed her job as a receptionist for Ender & Bean, the pay was good and the benefits were unparallel, and the easy gait of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen who just walked in the door made it all the better. Besides his devastating good looks he possessed the one quality that she found irresistible in a man, confidence.

_'No question where he's going to be working, probably never see him again, maybe I'll get lucky and he'll be working in one of the upstairs offices, maybe in consulting'_

She watched him walk across the lobby the lobby with movements that could better be described as a glide. His gaze never waivered from his destination, but she somehow got the impression that he was aware of every detail of his surroundings without having to look.

_'Plans, ya right, that guy has danger written all over him, he's a field operative if I've ever seen one'_

And with that thought the man of her dreams disappeared into the elevator, but not before he made her day with a wink and seductive grin just as the doors were closing.

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"Have you located the one?"

"Not yet my lord, but the time is near and the human Trask is playing his role adequately, soon the fruits of his labor will be ours."

"Very well, know that I do not accept failure Sinister, what has been given can just as easily be taken away, I cannot rule this world and cleanse it from the infestation that now walks its surface while the one walks freely."

"Understood my lord, your will shall be done and the mutant Remy Lebeau will enter into your fold."


	5. Interlude

**Interlude**

"He will not succeed and this worlds reality will fall like so many others".

: "You are so certain then?"

"He does not even posses his full power that was bestowed upon him at his creation"

: "His powers are still accessible, it would be impossible to permanently reduce them"

"We should have never allowed his creation; he is too dangerous, an unknown."

: "Do you refer to The First or to The One?"

"Either one is unnecessary without the other."

: "I doubt even we could prevent the embodiment of evil, it would have manifested itself in this reality in one form or another as we have seen countless times. The One is necessary to add balance."

"But never before has one had the ability to upset that balance and actually tip the scales toward the side of good. What makes you so sure that he will not succumb to his power and assume the mantle of evil once he has overthrown its current form?"

: "You would rather he maintained balance like in all other realities, a never ending conflict that throws the entire world into turmoil? Besides, there is something special about this one, he is…..different from the others, besides being more powerful I sense nobility in him".

"This is a dangerous game that we play; the effect of the outcome may very well send ripples through out all realities, the other watchers are viewing our experiment with great interest".

: "If he fails we will intervene on his behalf"

"You know that is not permitted, you cannot render aid to either side"

: "I said intervene, I did not specify that we would help. It is a frivolous debate anyway, he will not fail"

"Now you are the one who seems certain"

: "Either way his life is forfeit, we cannot allow him to live with such power, soon he will realize his full potential, he must never be allowed to access the inter-dimensional gate, he cannot leave his current reality, he would upset the balance of any reality that he traversed too."

"Would that not be a good thing?"

: "Those realities are not ours to control, the other watchers would not appreciate that outcome should we allow it to happen".

"So, you plan on ending his existence once he has served your purpose? At least he should be used to such a turn of events by now. I thought you believed him to be noble, yet you do not trust him?"

: "How can I? He does not even trust himself…."


	6. The Prophecy

**Ch 5: The Prophecy**

"Ya don't understand mama! ah love him, ah hafta know if he's alive an where he is!"

"Rogue you are being childish, you know how Destiny's power works and yet you still come here with demands you know she cannot fill, even if she could I would not permit it, your so called relationship with that man has caused you nothing but pain."

"Mystique, you might be good as they come as far as terrorist go but you don't know shit about bein' a good motha!"

Rogue didn't mean what she said; she was just willing to try anything to get a rise out of the woman, some semblance of passion or outrage, anything to show her that she wanted her for something other than to further her own gains. She just wanted her to care about her wellbeing. Rogue knew that the only reason Mystique disapproved of her relationship with Remy was because it interfered with her own designs for her.

Rogue was expecting compassion, and she was sorely disappointed. With her usual detachment she shrugged off the comment. "Honestly Rogue, I would have thought you were past the point in your life where you needed to communicate with outbursts."

Before Rogue could release the next insult that was poised on her tongue Destiny walked into the room.

"Mystique, please, let me have a moment with Rogue alone."

"Fine, if you want to indulge this self destructive behavior then I won't stand in the way, but I guarantee that I'll be the one left to pick up the pieces after its over", with that she left the room, and left Rogue and Destiny together.

"Come, sit down Rogue."

The steps that Rogue took to the chair by Destiny seemed like she was walking a mile, she was anxious and afraid at the same time; she wanted desperately to hear what the woman had to say but was frightened beyond belief at what it might be.

"Do not be afraid my dear, you know that I cannot tell you where Remy is, nor where he will be."

Rogue's head shot up and she stared expectantly at Destiny, the promise of hope began to form in her heart and she could only pray that it wouldn't shatter into a thousand pieces from what was to come.

"I can only offer you this, his future is uncertain, but he does have a future, I have seen it. He will be the center of great controversy, as it has always been."

Rogue interrupted with a disappointed sigh, "Ah appreciate your tryin to help and all Destiny, but ah already know about tha Massacre, ah was hopin for somethin' ah didn't know about, something that would help me find Remy."

An amused expression crossed the seer's features and she held back a laugh as to not belittle her adopted daughter.

"Your thoughts while refreshing in their naivety are small and misplaced my dear. You think in terms of your own self-centeredness, know that there is a much wider world with more at stake than the lives of a few mutants."

"What do ya mean Destiny, are ya sayin' that Remy is responsible for somethin' worse than the Massacre? Ah don't care what he's done, ah need to find him and tell him ah forgive him, to tell him ah love him."

"Calm yourself child, the future of the one you love revolves around something much greater. I can not tell you exactly what that future is, only that it exists as one of many possibilities, it is filled with strife and mayhem, and he is at the center of it all. I have seen this in my visions since I learned of his existence, every time I see this future I see it differently, but he remains a constant through them all. I do not know how but the fate of this world may very well hang on the actions of one man, and that man is Remy. It would benefit us all greatly if you were to find him."

"But how Destiny, how do ah find him? Ah don't even know where ta start lookin."

"There is another, another which is tied into the future I speak of almost as strongly as he is, he plays a far lesser role but is just as constant, if you find him you will find Remy."

"Who is it? Who do ah need to find?"

"A human, his name is Bolivar Trask, he will lead you to Remy. The timing must be perfect, I do not know why, or even exactly what connection the two have to each other, but they are connected in this future all the same. One will cause the other great pain as a consequence of their actions, and as a result of this pain a new future will come to fruition. But I am tired now, reliving these visions and trying to put them into some semblance of words always leaves me exhausted, find him Rogue, your companionship to him may very well shape the future into something more than it is destined to become." And with that Destiny left Rogue to her thoughts as she retired to her room. But not before throwing one last word of advice over here shoulder,

"Beware Trask, he is more than he seems."

A whirlwind of thoughts ran through her head. That were hopeful and fearful, thoughts that she needed to act upon and needed her teammates to help her with, thoughts that she had to convince them, and more importantly herself, were legitimate.

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"Ah, Mr. Gautreau, please come in and have a seat, I have been looking forward to meeting you, it's a pleasure".

Remy found the head of recruiting to be quite an average man, average height, average build, tailored suit that was appropriate but not excessive with shoes that matched the same description and a watch that was obviously a gift from the company, hair that was short and neat but resembled a thousand other haircuts he'd seen. Even his name Jonathan Stone, wreaked of mediocrity. Everything about this man was designed to not draw attention, Remy immediately had him pegged for ex-CIA, '_musta been in de clandestine services branch, homme could walk past someone a thousand times an' neva draw a secon' look'._

"De pleasure be all mine, if you don' mind I'd like to get straight to business, I have otha offers currently on de table dat I mus' address in an expedient manner". '_Dieu I hope dis tactic works'._

Remy played his hand early, but it was calculated, he let Stone know in no uncertain terms that this job was not that important to him and he potentially had better offers lined up, he said one thing, but what it meant was "If I walk out of here without being hired then I never walk back in again".

Stone gave him an appraising stare, and then looked back down at his file that was opened on his desk; Remy could only guess what the man was thinking. The truth was Jonathan Stone wasn't thinking much on whether or not he was going to hire Jean Paul Gautreau, just where he was going to staff him at. He had already decided that he was going to hire the man; he was too desperate not too. _'He's too qualified for one of our regular sites, he'd just get bored and more than likely get himself in trouble, I wonder where he would fit in best.'_

Remy was getting more than frustrated, but thankfully for his sake he was doing an excellent job of not letting it show. Sitting at ease in front of the scrutiny of Mr. Stone he was perplexed. He was searching, with every ounce of energy he had he was looking for an emotion, any emotion at all from the man that he could grab on to and twist until it formed into something more of his liking. But as hard as he searched, as intense his concentration was, as far as he reached out with his empathy he couldn't find anything, the man was a blank slate. '_Merde, jus' have ta do dis de ol' fashion way den'._

He raised his arms and stretched, and as he did so a small silver crucifix tumbled out onto the other side of his shirt so that it was visible. By no small chance it was positioned so that the light coming through the window refracted off the cross so that it caught Stone's attention.

"You are a religious man Mr. Gautreau?"

"Oui, not dat it should matter none, but I am a practicing Catholic, I'm assuming dis won' be a problem", Remy feigned aggravation at the question, allowing his accent to become more pronounced to sell the authenticity.

"Not at all Mr. Gautreau, it's just that normally someone in your line of work does not practice religion, sort of a conflict of interest if you will". Remy finally got what he had been looking for, he picked up a faint tinge of something that crept out from behind the man's icy exterior, and it was the last feeling that he would have expected; worry. Mr. Stone was worried that he had offended him with his question, game over.

Suddenly a brilliant though struck Mr. Stone out of the blue and he couldn't for the life of him think of why it didn't come to him sooner.

"Mr. Gautreau, we have a private client that is currently running a research facility in the Nevada desert close to Las Vegas. I think that your particular talents would be quite suited to such a job."

"And just what would that job be?" Feigning interest he dropped the accent and lowered his voice to show that he had calmed down.

"Providing security to the research facility of course."

"What's so special about that? I didn't think security guards needed special skills."

"To be honest Mr. Gautreau, working at the facility so close to Las Vegas has had it's draw backs, while it provides some relief to the men on their down days, it sometimes proves to be a distraction when their minds should be on work. I've had to let more than a few go because their behavior was unacceptable. It will be good to have you on board down there to provide a moral compass if you will". The irony of sending him to Vegas to be a beacon of morals was not lost on Remy.

'_Dis ain' right, der has ta be somethin' more, he mus' know same as I do dat people who act righteous are some of de bigges' hypocrites of dem all'._

"So why not just send a preacher down there then to tend to the flock?"

"There are also other duties that some of our employees for this particular facility perform, a more…..proactive type of security, the type of proactive security that someone with your background would excel at".

A wave of regret and pain washed over Remy, it was all so familiar, a replay of events that he tortured himself with day after day. He remember a similar conversation, held inside of an operating room where had just underwent surgery.

"_Your unique talents will prove quite useful to me Remy, now that you are in my employment we will accomplish much together_."

"_No, there is no need for details right now, you need to focus on recovery, I will provide you with all the information you will need to accomplish my tasks when the time approaches. You are indebted to me Remy, you will work for me until that debt is fulfilled. Know that these jobs are tailored to fit with someone of your talents"_

"So what do you say Mr. Gautreau, can we welcome you to the team?"

Remy thought hard about his next words. The conflicting arguments that were flying through his conscience were fast and numerous, picking out the right one to listen to was nearly impossible. He refused to be a tool again, to be used as someone else's pawn in a sick and twisted game, he would not be responsible for more innocents lost.

"Oui, I'd like dat"

'_Dis time, Remy gon' be de one movin de pieces homme, an' I won' hesitate to make de sacrifice to win de game.'_

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"He grows stronger, he reached through a suppression field to use his powers, and I do not even think he realized that he did it."

: "It would seem not. It is not surprising though, no mortal technology can stifle the power of The One unless he chooses to let it."

"After all that he has endured, you still feel that he will make the right choice at the critical juncture?"

: "It is one or the other, he has but one decision to set his path, if he chooses wrong then we will know that we have failed."

"The time draws near, and I for one am anxious to end this."

A sardonic laugh filled the air, a sound that he had never heard from her before.

: "You have much to learn of these beings my young apprentice."

She stared at him with a wry smile that unnerved him,

: "It is only just beginning."

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Boredom was starting to take its toll on Jubilee, with most of the team taking some down time due to a lull in anti-mutant activity there was little for her to keep herself occupied with.

'_At least when Gambit was here I had something to look at, now all I have to is Ice Cube and stick up my rear Summers. No I'm sorry Jubilee, were going to take this Picasso away and put it in the attic and replace it with this finger-painting that was done by a mentally challenged 3-year old'_

She decided to kill some time by watching a little television until Wolvie got back from the bar, he was always fun to heckle after he'd had a few.

"Hey Jubes, what are you up to?"

"Not much Jean, just wasting my life away while everyone else is out experiencing danger and excitement."

Jean leaned over the back of the couch and whispered in her ear,

"He was unbelievably hot wasn't he? However I don't think Scott needs to know you think he has a stick up his butt".

Jubilee turned a bright scarlet and let out an exasperating moan,

"You know I hate it when you do that, its soooo not fair"

The older X-woman smiled, "You shouldn't project then dear, I think I saw Betty with a copy of Pretty Woman, I'll go see if we can borrow it".

"Awesome, I didn't really feel like watching the news anyways."

"_And in other news, N.Y.P.D has confirmed that the circulation of counterfeit bills has risen by 300 percent in the last week, police officials are baffled as to how bills are being produced with such precise duplication, Federal officials have declined to comment. Signing off until next time, I'm Trish Tilby, channel 6 news."_

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Deep in the chambers of a secret compound long since buried from sight by millennia of dust and rock, Apocalypse cast an imposing figure from his throne. Centuries he had waited for circumstances to align; finally after all of the waiting it was time.

"You look weak my lord", imbued with courage from the knowledge that he was invaluable to Apocalypse's cause Sinister dared to initiate a deadly game of cat and mouse with one of the most powerful entities on the planet.

"Perhaps, but still more than strong enough to easily crush any who oppose me." He did not need to clarify, the message was clear. Perhaps Sinister would have challenged him, but neither he nor anyone else on the mortal plane had a true idea as to the extent of Apocalypse's power.

"Of course my lord, that goes with out saying."

"Indeed, you would do well to remember that Sinister, tell me, have you found him yet?"

"I have, he is at the facility, all is going according to my plans, it will only be a short time before we are ready to move forward."

"Excellent, you have served your master well thus far. With the power of The One behind me the strong will flock to my side and the weak will cower in fear!" He slammed a powerful fist down on the arm of his throne for emphasis.

"Or not, I can just as easily destroy him to fulfill my conquest, either way my will shall be done."

"Yes my lord." With that Sinister bowed out of the throne room to return to his lab, the prospects of studying the mutant prisoners of Apocalypse greatly intrigued him. However the prospect of having Remy Lebeau back within his grasps was by far a more desirable outcome, Sinister of course had his own plans for the thief.

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"What do you make of this Sinister creature? He is unpredictable at best. Has The First weakened himself by bestowing upon him a portion of his power?"

: "His mind is warped, even beyond that of The First, I would say that the situation has become far more dangerous because of it."

"For whom?"

: "Exactly."

"The One has escaped his grasp before."

: "Yes, but he paid a terrible price, necessary but terrible none the less, I almost regret that we forced him into it."

"It was for the greater good"

: "Yes……..I suppose it was."


	7. Return of Gambit

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters and am not making any money off of this, it's just for fun. **

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, their only reason that I continue, as long as I keep getting them I'll keep writing. The story should finish about chapter 40 or so if you're wondering about the length. Probably a sequel as well if there is enough demand. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it, hopefully the chapters are getting better as a result of your reviews.**

**CH 7: The Return of Gambit**

The feel of cold steel in his hands was familiar. After all, his weapon of choice, his collapsible bo-staff was made of adamantium, and none who saw him wield it could deny that he did so with a deadly grace.

He recalled those instances when he was underestimated, surrounded in close proximity by armed men, regular flat scans. He remembered the mocking laughter in their voices that surrounded him,

_"Didn't you ever here not to bring a knife to a gun fight boy?"_ He held back his smile, if they wanted to take their position for granted then that was their mistake, and he would use it against them.

_"Hell he didn't even bring a knife, he brought a stick!"_ Again, raucous laughter at his expense, or so they thought, because in his mind he was laughing along with them at a different joke.

_"You wanna play wit Gambit den non? Lets make it fair den mon braves, Gambit gon' give ya'll de first move."_

_"This guy must be off his rocker, take this idiot out." _

_"Wrong move mon ami."_ In an instant that was barely noticeable to the average observer the man behind him lifted his weapon to fire and simultaneously 6 inches of durable adamantium extended into five and half feet. But those that were watching could hardly tell, because immediately it began to spin in a manner that made it seem like it was an optical illusion. Before any of them could register his movements they were staring at him from the ground, in piles of broken bones and blood. A few shots were fired, a byproduct of the body's knee jerk reaction to blunt trauma, but the spatial awareness that made him the superior fighter negated any threat that the bullets would have posed to any average man.

_"Look like Gambit win dis round den non? Mebbe next time den eh? Au revoir hommes"_

A smile played across his features at the memories, but the awkward feeling in his hands brought him back to the present. No, Remy Lebeau was no stranger to the feel of a solid metal weapon, but this one was foreign, the shape was wrong, everything about it was wrong; the balance, the feel, the weight, the size, and most of all the limited options it presented him. It was definitely not the first rifle he had handled, that had regretfully become a regular occurrence back when he was delving into contracts that called for more force that stealth. Sometimes you needed to reach out and touch some one from a distance, his cards were too loud, too flashy, but a silenced sniper rifle often proved a strong ally. But those instances were a memory now, it had been some time since his work had required him to use such tactics. Tactics that began his foray into the darkness, each contract he filled that resulted in him taking a life dimmed a piece of his soul, and led him down the path to serve evil. He had vowed that those days were over, he would never again wield an uncontrollable instrument of death, but here he was, breaking the very vow that he swore he would uphold.

Two weeks after he took the contract and his foot was barely in the door. He had a basic idea of the security setup, but there were so many layers that for the first time in his life he began to doubt if he could pull a job off.

From what he had learned his firm was responsible for the outer layer and overall setup for security with the two internal layers contracted out to competing firms, that's how he knew these guys were serious, firms were always in constant competition, security was a cutthroat business and cooperation between firms was unheard of.

There were two setups, the rotations that Remy was apart of ran a constant roving perimeter, 24/7 that included the usual badge checks and call responses from nervous secretaries. The other part of his firm worked inside the building on special projects for the facility, from what he could tell it was more mercenary work than security.

Dexter Securities specialized in mainframe and network security, their employees were all techies that worked inside the facilities clean room. Remy regretted his choice of firm, considering what he was after it would have been much more advantageous to have gotten in with Dexter Securities than with his current employer Wiggin & Bean. He quickly dismissed the thought though when he realized that there was little he could have done to get hired on with them in the allotted time frame, much less ensure that he was stationed at the facility. He had the feeling that only their top notch specialist were on this detail.

The other Security firm, Titan Inc., ran lab and transportation security. Specimens that had to be moved to storage or discreetly disposed of needed armed escorts, they had straight shot access to the labs and back out with little more, he doubted any of them would prove helpful in gaining him access to the product that he was after.

The fourth and final layer was ran by the facility itself, little was known about what the final layer was but rumors indicated it was some sort of psyops, he planned on avoiding that layer at all costs. All in all his research so far had brought him to one conclusion,

_'Remy, you be royally fucked homme._'

His GPS encoder that was provided to him by his employers beeped indicating that it was time to rotate to his next checkpoint. The timer was set on a random sequence that was controlled by a mainframe maintained by Dexter Securities, none of the guards knew when they were do to rotate until the timer beeped, and if they missed their checkpoint the mainframe would send an additional series of beeps to the rest of the guards that indicated which one of them was the offender, Remy was guard number seven, so if he missed a checkpoint then seven beeps would be filtered down to the rest of his rotation, and since the encoders were GPS tracked, they would know exactly were to find him. Overall it was a solid security plan, Remy was thoroughly impressed.

At least the accommodations weren't bad. The firms were housed in three separate compounds that surrounded the facility, they didn't want them mixing in order to prevent one person from gaining too much access to the client. Not to mention the headhunting that would be going on, qualified security operatives were a rare find, if allowed to interact, the separate firms would try and lure operatives over to their respective companies, drawing away from the mission of providing the facility with airtight coverage.

His radio beeped and an authoritative voice filtered through the static,

"Gautreau, I need to see you in my office over in sector two, Rodriguez will relieve you in five."

_'Dis is odd, Ain' been here a week an de boss man wanna see me already, I know I ain' missed no rotations._'

As Remy pondered the implications of this meeting, he felt a body moving through his kinesthetic field behind him, the short choppy steps burdened by an extra 50lbs of gear told him that it was Rodriguez coming to relieve him.

"Yo J.P, the boss wants to see you man"

"D'accord Rod, you know what dis be about?"

"Man you know they don't tell none of us shit, but I'd suggest you hop your frog ass over there on the double, he sounded agitated as fuck comprende?

"Got it mon ami, I'll see you down at de bar when shift is over eh?"

"Sounds like a plan Frenchy, I doubt they serve wine though."

'_Wine, I wonder if he's ever even tasted it before… I've never seen a man drink so much whiskey in one sitting before in my life, J.P. must have went through some serious shit running ops with those special forces units, guys got some serious issues.'_

Remy gave him a laugh to let him know the friendly banter was accepted and made his way into the facility.

_'Looks like your luck jus' don' ever run out homme, dis might be de break you been lookin' fo.'_

Remy was greeted at the upper entrance to the facility that was housed deep in the side of the Nevada canyon by two armed escorts who looked like they had seen better days. He recognized that they were apart of the second detail that ran ops for the client, even if he hadn't known them from seeing them around it wouldn't have taken a genius to figure out they weren't your typical run of the mill security guards.

They made their way down the corridor and Remy's training as a thief kicked in, cataloging every turn, every door way and every checkpoint. When they got to their destination he was escorted into the office of the head of security ops, Anthony Draydon.

"I'll get to the point Gautreau, I've recently had a position open up on my team and HQ tells me that you're the most qualified individual that we have on location, you come highly recommended by Mr. Stone himself. It's no small feat impressing him so I'm sure that you will make a competent addition".

"What 'xactly is dis position Mr. Draydon, an' what do it entail?"

"You'll be working on my team running ops for our client, the client has certain interest outside the facility that we work to secure, as well as certain...issues that we handle for him, through process of elimination."

_'Assasination and kidnappin, merde what you get yo'self into dis time homme'_

Remy picked up the blunt implication as the men in the room stared at him, waiting for his response. He picked up a movement so slight that he wasn't sure if he imagined it or not, but when the guard opposite to the one to his left rear mirrored the movement and slid his finger off the guard and onto the trigger of his weapon he knew that it was no mistake, he suddenly felt inclined to accept the offer.

'_Well, you already in dis deep homme, might as well finish wat you started'._

Remy nodded to a man who was wavering in and out of consciousness in the corner of the room with one hand grasping at his abdomen. "Is dat a byproduct of one of deese "issues" you be referin' to?".

"It seems that Mr. Halpan has lost his conviction to carry on with this particular type of operation, he underestimated his target because he was unarmed. The mission called for acquisition but he got too close before the target was neutralized, rectifying the situation will be one of the first missions your new team will take on. The objective has changed however, from acquisition to elimination".

His fist reaction was an internal cringe, a foreshadowing of regret that he knew was on the horizon if he carried out the new objective, but then he caught Halpan's movement. In order to shift his weight to a more comfortable position he drew away his hand that was covering his wound in order to use it for support. That's when Remy saw three bright red streaks running diagonal across the man's stomach, a signature wound that might has well have been signed in pen. They were ragged cuts, not fine and precise like those caused by metal blades; he knew there was only one man in this world who could leave a wound like that. A feeling of blinding rage spread from the depths of his being and filled him throughout his entire body until he was only seeing in shades of gray and one word pervaded his senses…Creed.

"Our client has given us the go-ahead to eliminate any such threats that we are unable to acquire and return to base, as you can see this one presented itself somewhat of a challenge. We have been authorized to use deadly force, so long as the body is returned to the facility. Hefty bonuses are usually offered to operatives who complete this particular type of mission in order to add incentive; this isn't exactly the most pleasant aspect of our job".

"D'accord Mr. Draydon".

"Excellent, we will debrief you on the target and have you ready to leave with your team by tomorrow morning, is there anything else Mr. Gautreau?"

"Yes, keep de bonus, I gladly do dis one fo free."

His icy tone sent a chill through their spines and unnerved even the most battle hardened warriors in the room. They watched him stand there un-phased and unmoving, the same thought spread through each of their minds, the thought of certainty, certainty that made them believe he was fully intent of carrying out that statement.

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"Already he teeters on the precipice, he will no doubt go over the edge".

: "I do not disagree."

"Yet you do not worry?"

: "We have long known that he would be pushed to this point, there was never a question. It is how he will recover that separates him apart from those around him".

"You know he will not, he has fallen to many times already with no helping hand to pull him back up. His spirit will be broken, he will give in to failure".

: "But this time a hand of help will be offered to him."

"If he chooses to take it…."

: "Indeed, that will be the true test"

And with that the watchers did what they have done for eons, they watched the events they had shaped since before the birth of civilization unfold before them.

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Reaching up he pulled out the contacts that hid his eyes. He hated wearing them, they were unnatural, but unfortunately a necessity for this job. He stared at himself in the mirror, he looked into his own demon eyes, more familiar that the hazel ones he had been hiding behind and wondered how he had managed to fall back down into the crevice that he had worked so hard to crawl out of.

'_Mebbe it was jus' dream Lebeau an' ya never made it out in de firs' place'._

More than once his conscious started to hint at a tinge of regret, until he thought about Creed. He hated Creed more than anyone else in this pathetic and lost world, even more than Sinister who had cost him so much. At least Sinister had some twisted logic behind his actions, but Creed killed for the pure and simple twisted pleasure of it.

The benefit of killing that abomination would wipe away any taint of the soul that the action may cause. One responsible for so much willing murder and mindless killing could not be allowed to continue through life unpunished, not when he himself was forced to live with the burden of guilt caused by atrocities that he had never wanted, never would have allowed if he had known, atrocities that he punished himself for ruthlessly every day.

_'You didn' do dis to yo'self Remy! You did evertin' you had to ta get rid of dem demons!, Dey pushed you back down into dis hole, dey dragged you back ta dis life when dey lef' you ta die. Dey took away de penance you was doin' and forced you inta dis'._

Even as he tried to convince himself of his absolution, he knew that it was his own cowardice as much as anything that resulted in his current situation.

_'Coulda wen' back homme, shoulda wen' back an' faced de music, but you always gotta run non?, Dey mighta understood if only you coulda told de truth for once in your miserable life'._

How ironic he thought. All times he lied to save is own ass, to hold his secrets to himself in order to hide the terrible truth, all the deception, and this is the one time that the old adage applied to his pathetic existence; The truth would have set him free.

The briefing earlier in the day had only confirmed what he knew all along, the figure that filled the view screen was unmistakably imposing and vicious. It was not a flattering visage of Creed, it was a security photo of him leaving a rundown warehouse that was taken from the bank across the street. He was carrying two lifeless forms, one in each hand and a snarling maw that was covered in blood. Looking at the photo Remy guessed what he was doing with those two bodies, and where, if not who he was taking them to. It wasn't the highest quality of photo, he doubted that a firm with such resources would have trouble acquiring something better, from their own private operatives or from one of the various government ran mutant monitoring agencies, however the effect wouldn't have been near as unnerving.

Remy wondered what type of research facility this was that needed to capture Creed, or why a research facility would need someone killed. He had since deduced that it was obviously dedicated to the study of unwilling mutants, but why they wanted Sabertooth he just couldn't figure out. There was nothing special besides his murderous rage that set him apart from the other thousands of mutants in the country, but to sacrifice an operative just to capture him baffled Remy to no ends.

They all looked at him like he was half past crazy when he spoke up in the middle of the briefing,

"Don't need no help on dis one, I think dat mebbe it woul' be bes' if I wen' alone."

After a pause of several long moments where no one protested Mr. Draydon spoke up,

"I appreciate your enthusiasm Mr. Gautreau but I do not think that will be necessary".

"Ain' nothin' necessary bout it boss, jus' easier, you ever wonder why you had such a hard time gettin' de drop on him las' time? Can' get no where near dis one stompin' round and makin' noise wit a big group of folk. You need stealth to get to dis one."

"I know exactly what is required Mr. Gautreau, we all read the same file that you did. There is nothing in your profile that leads me to believe that you are any more qualified than the rest of the individuals in this room to complete this mission. I have already lost one operative to this mark and he was with a qualified team, I do not plan on loosing another so soon. Do you have history with the target That I need to be aware of? If you're personal feelings get in the way of this mission we can pull you off, I can't afford an emotional operative jeopardizing a mission".

Remy stared at the man and gave great thought to what he was about to say next, this situation had to be handled exactly right. He looked around the room at his team, it wasn't that he didn't think they were capable, they were all highly trained operatives, some were ex-special forces, some were career mercenaries that had been doing this type of work since they could lift a rifle. One in particular intrigued him, Svetlana, a Chechnyian rebel that had been engaged in some type of warfare for her entire life, hers was a skill gained out of necessity. He wondered how someone so beautiful could be so efficient in the art of killing. He laughed at his own question,

_'How many belle femmes you know dat ain' dangerous homme?'_

There wasn't any reason for him to not trust these people, it was just done out of habit, he didn't trust anyone.

He had seen what Sabertooth was capable of, and no matter how highly trained his teammates were he doubted that they were up to the task. Sure they could execute the plan, even get off the kill shot with deadly accuracy, but when they had to go in for confirmation is when things would get hectic. He didn't want to have to worry about anyone but himself in that situation, he wouldn't be responsible for the loss of any life but his own. He doubted they were innocent, but he also doubted that they deserved the fate that awaited them at the end of Sabertooth's vicious claws. All the skills in the world couldn't prepare them for the ferocity of close quarters combat with a feral predator like Creed, it just wasn't within their natural abilities, but it was within his.

"Oui, used to do a few jobs wit him, notin' personal though, I jus' be de best homme for de job eh? I Think dat less is more in dis situation, I know how dis homme operates, I can follow his movements better den anyone else here, de res' of dese folks jus' slow me down".

Draydon took careful survey of his newest recruit, there was something about him that made him dare to believe his words and place his trust in him, he suddenly and for no apparent reason found himself in awe of the man. There was nothing particularly inspiring about him from his outward appearance, he looked to be no more capable than any of his other operatives, at first glance you could mistake him for some pretty playboy instead of a battle hardened soldier, but his confident demeanor was contagious and to no avail he fell into his hypnotic gaze with reluctant agreement.

"Very well Mr. Gautreau, but remember, were not paying you to settle old scores, make the kill quick, clean, efficient and then bring back the body."

"D'accord Mr. Draydon."

"We'll set up comm from here, I run all ops from our control room, you'll need to pick a handle. In the unlikely event that an eavesdropper catches wind of one of our operations we like to provide our agents with plausible deniability."

_'What de hell, might as well go all in'_

"De name is Gambit."

Draydon didn't know why but it seemed to fit perfectly, most code names that weren't given by someone else because it fit the personality seemed awkward and forced, until eventually it rolled of tongue as the product of sheer repetitiveness. But the name Gambit suited this man so well that he wondered how they ever called him anything else.

"Fine, Gambit it is, study the file and be ready by 0700 tomorrow, a chopper will pick you up on the landing pad and take you to the targets last known location. Bring all the gear you will need to track him, this one is slippery."

Remy got up from his chair and strode out of the room before the man could change his mind. After he was gone Draydon wondered what had possessed him to agree to such a dangerous gamble, he had never sent a single operative out against such a dangerous target. He tried to pin it down but it seemed like the events that occurred just moments ago were hazy, like it was a dream. He found it strange, but let it go with the self proclaimed excuse that he was caught up in the adrenaline that accompanied the moment.

After Remy was through replaying those events in his mind he snapped out of his reverie to blink the dryness from his eyes.

_'Dat wasn't to bright charmin de man like dat in fron' of everyone else, good t'ing none of dem wanted to take on Creed again anyhow. And wat de hell did you give him dat name fo'? You coulda used any name in de worl' but you give him dat one, at least now when dis job is done der won' be no doubt as to who pulled it off'_.

With that Remy contemplated sleep, but decided to have just a few drinks, if only to take the edge off.

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: "Interesting, already The One is deviating from the path that has been laid before him, it seems that you were right in his unpredictability"

"Yes but whose path, the one that we have constructed or that of The First"

: "It would appear that he has taken neither, instead he chooses a third option that we have not predicted, this will complicate things. I had long believed that our path was the dominant one, a result of centuries of preparation, the path of The First is only newly formed and cannot compete with the intricate plan we have laid, yet The One defies us both."

"What will you do?"

: "What can we do? I find it disturbing that he has managed to evade centuries of meticulous planning that was done on his behalf, this is an unexpected turn of events, it seems that it was all done in futility".

"Do you think he realizes the power he possesses, the responsibility that hinges on his every decision? I should hope not, his actions thus far do not bode well for this reality if he does."

: "No, his powers were suppressed at the beginning stages of their evolution; the one named Sinister did quite an effective job of stifling his potential early. It is his actions that have added unpredictability; he is the pebble that has somehow managed to alter the river from its course. Because of him The One has been molded into something other than we have intended".

"Yes, it is unfortunate."

: "Not so, I believe that while causing The One to become something different, inadvertently he has caused him to become something better"

"Intriguing indeed, but I thought you said it was impossible to reduce the powers of the one."

: "It is, the power is still within his grasp as it has always been, Sinister did nothing to stop his evolution, he only succeeded in making him ignorant of his abilities. When the time comes he will be able to reach within himself and recall his power, he only has to be willing to reach through the barrier that he allows to stand in his mind."

"Yes, but the question remains….when the time comes will he be willing to do so?

: "As it is true for all things that have occurred to him in his life it will scarcely rely upon any of his own actions, but instead on the actions of others. We have long known that he cannot be controlled directly, he is too strong, but can only be controlled through the actions of others."

"I find myself feeling a great deal of pity for The One, he has never been allowed to live as he would have chosen, and we will take that life before he will ever have that chance again."

: "Yes, it is unfortunate…..but necessary all the same"


	8. The Vote

Disclaimer: I don't own any marvel characters and I'm not making any money off of this, it's just for fun.

Reviews are great!

BJ2: Thanks, thats pretty high praise getting grouped in with VJ.

**The Vote**

Draydon loathed these meetings and he hated answering to the man. Up until a month ago all correspondence was done electronically, Trask would email him the file with his directive, Draydon and his team would execute that directive and everyone was happy. But then things changed. Now he was subjected to morning debriefs with Trask, why he had to explain tactics to an obvious techie was beyond his understanding, all he ever got at the end of his explanations were a blank stare, devoid of any kind of recognition.

Besides the inconvenience of the new situation, Trask just simply unnerved him. Everything from his demeanor to his posture, from his cool gaze right down to his annoyingly neutral voice, it all set off alarm bells in his head. Intimidation tactics? He hardly though so, not from a snake like Trask, if that was his intent he was more the type to play political power games that a futile attempt to try and directly intimidate him through physical presence, at least he hoped so, because that's exactly what the man did. He hoped this mornings meeting would be quick, he was anxious to establish contact with Gambit and see what the man had to offer, he had high hopes for that one.

"Mr. Draydon, please have a seat, I am most interested on hearing how our latest acquisition goes."

He hated how the man tried to bring him in to his circle and place a mantle of responsibility on his shoulders, as far as Draydon was concerned their was no "our" in this ordeal, he was a hired mercenary doing a job, just a tool.

"Unfortunately not well, I lost one of my operatives to your latest target, nothing too serious but he won't be ready for the field again for quite some time." He was careful to put the emphasis on the words "my operative" and "your target", hopefully Trask would get the hint.

If he did, he didn't let it show.

"How unfortunate, it's always a shame when we loose an operative; however you can rest assured that this particular target is of utmost importance to our research. I'm assuming that the target is still un-acquired?"

"Correct, he escaped the rest of my team after severely wounding one. You seem to place a great deal of emphasis on the acquisition of this target, even more so than that of target X."

"Yes, target X was...is I should say a crucial juncture in the advancement of our project, but no matter how far that subject takes us, our final objective cannot be attained without the acquisition of Mr. Creed".

Draydon cringed, he hated when he referred to their marks by name, it added a personal aspect to the mission that he tried to detach himself from.

"Tell me, what steps have you taken to ensure the completion of our mission?"

Draydon gave up the futile word play and conceded that Trask would not relent the terms "us" and "our".

"I have recruited a new operative, French Foreign Legion, highly qualified, he is currently on a mission to finish the job."

Trask looked upon him with interest. And not the feigned interest that Draydon had so often seen from the man, he seemed truly enamored with this report.

"And what is this man's name might I ask?"

The polite phrasing of the question didn't fool Draydon, the man wanted an answer, Draydon hoped it was the correct one.

"His name is Jean Paul Gautreau."

Trasked dropped back into a contemplative posture, analyzing this latest shred of information. For some reason, a reason that went against every tenet of personal conduct that Draydon lived his life by, he offered an additional truth without being prompted for it.

"He calls himself Gambit."

Trask looked at him with quite a pleased expression, like the news was a great relief to a vexing problem. That looked was soon replaced by a flash of anger and realization.

"What!? And you sent him with the team to capture Creed!"

Draydon stammered, "But..I mean..no!" Was all he could blurt out, he had never seen Trask so animated before.

Trask quickly regained his composure and resumed his usual neutral posture of nonchalance, like nothing in this entire world could threaten him.

"Please Mr. Draydon, do brief me on the current situation".

"Well like I said, I sent Gambit out..." He was sharply interrupted,

"You just stated that you did not send Gambit out after Creed, are you attempting to deceive me Mr. Draydon".

The man was back to intimidation tactics again. Draydon quickly gathered himself, he would not succumb to such a ploy from a weasel like Trask.

"What I was in the process of saying before I was interrupted..." With that he gave a pointed stare embedded in a shroud of aggravation at Trask.

"...is that I did not send Gambit out with a team, I sent him alone. And the mission is no longer for acquisition but for elimination. Have the terms of our contract changed Mr. Trask? You did inform me to eliminate any targets that could not be brought back alive did you not?"

Trask spun his chair so that he was directly facing Draydon. As he leaned forward and steepeld his fingers his face escaped from the shadows and revealed his angry intense expression.

"Indeed they have Mr. Draydon, you will contact Gambit and inform him that his objective has changed, he is to capture Creed alive, and you will send all of your resources to aid him. Gambit is not to move on the target until backup arrives, am I understood?"

"Yes sir."

With that Trask leaned back in his chair, back into the position where a shadow fell across his features and dismissed Draydon as if he were a common servant.

"That will be all Mr. Draydon, but before you go, know that failure will not bode well for you or your firm, I will let my displeasure be known in a most...unpleasant way, you are dismissed."

As Draydon walked the corridor back to his office he wondered,

'Did that little shit just physically threaten me, nah, worst he would probably do is try and get me fired...'

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Rogue touched down just inside the mansions perimeter, she wasn't quite prepared yet with what she wanted to say or how she was going to deliver the unbelievable story she had learned of from Destiy, she hoped that a long walk up to the mansions door would help her collect her thoughts. Cerebro recognized her signature and stood down automated security, it had taken beast a while to get it up and running again without the professor's help, but once he did it was operating at full capacity.

As she made the walk down the driveway she began to formulate her thoughts when one that was not her own entered into her consciousness.

'Rogue! Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you!'

'I had somethin' I needed to take care of sugah, hope I didn't cause ya'll too much trouble.'

'No more than when anyone else disappears I suppose, welcome home.'

'Thankya Jean, could ya do me a favor? I was wonderin' If ah could see everyone in tha War Room foah a quick meetin, I got somethin' ya'll need to hear.'

'Of course, I'll send out a message immediately'.

It was all happening so fast, she had expected to at least break the ice to a few people who she knew would be on her side first so that she could go in with a little confidence, knowing that their were a few who were ready to jump in on her behalf, but now it looked as if she would have to weather the initial storm herself.

She took a seat at the head of the table, she tried to draw on memories of how Cyclops had always conducted these meetings, he always seemed so at ease, the position of leadership coming natural to him. She decided that it would be best to stand in order to project a more confident presence.

"What's this about darlin'? Ain't never recalled you callin' a meetin' before."

"Ya Rogue, are they having a sale on gloves down at Bloomingdales or something?"

She gave a forced laugh at Bobby's joke, "Ah think its bettah if I just wait untill everyone is hear."

When it looked as if the entire team was assembled she took survey of the room. It seemed as if everyone was curious why Rogue of all people had called a team meeting.

Bishop stood in the corner with his usually stoic pose. His eyes constantly moving, the man was always on the alert for some perceived threat. She couldn't exactly explain it, but it seemed that Gambit's departure from the team had hit him the hardest. Between him and Storm the two showed little emotion, but in a competition of coolness Bishop had her beat by a mile. That's why his withdrawn demeanor was such a telling trait of how the man felt, she wouldn't have thought it possible for the man to seem more distant, yet he was, almost as if he was disappointed with them all, like he expected something more. Rogue was inclined to agree with him, her only question for the man was why had he not confronted her, perhaps he knew what was in her heart, perhaps he knew she never meant to leave Remy behind, or perhaps he was just too disgusted with her to even bother.

Betsy took her chair besides Warren; Remy's departure hardly seemed to affect either of them at all. Warren had made it no secret that he held Remy responsible for the loss of his wings and the resulting servitude he endured at the hands of Apocalypse. It was frustrating how easily his emotions swung on Gambit, she could remember the two of them getting along, even having long conversations that stretched into the night revolving around business tactics and corporate buyouts. Rogue could never follow them much, but Remy's seeming knowledge of the subject had surprised her, she remembered always wanting to ask him how he knew so much about it but for some reason she never followed through on the question, always distracted from her objective when she would mean to ask. She remembered Warren saying more than once how Gambit had improved the security at one of his buildings by threefold, he seemed to truly value the man as a teammate, maybe even a friend, if Remy ever had such a thing.

Beast was crouched against the wall, his heavy frame too awkward for any chair to support. She had thought he would be the one she could confide in about the situation, but every time she tried the sad look in his eyes threw her off. He once saw him going over a video of the trial that was taken from the Blackbirds' on board sensors, it was early morning and his shoulders were stooped low, head bent over the monitor, meticulously looking for something, what that something was she didn't know. When she came back from a trip to the city with Jean she found him in the exact same position, she doubted that he had moved all day.

Jean...she had been the one shoulder for Rogue to lean on in the past months, never waning, never judging, just there to listed to her speak her heart. At first she thought that she was just trying to fill the vacated void left by the absence of Xavier, but after time she began to truly feel close to the woman. She had never been particularly good friends with Jean, she felt it a shame that it took such a tragic even to bring them together. Oddly enough after all the conversations they shared on the subject Rogue still didn't know exactly how the woman felt about Gambit.

Storm took up her seat next to Cyclops; it had been hard for her to give up her leadership position upon his return. She guessed that it was a distraction that she could lose herself in, something to take her mind off of the other half of her heart as she called Remy. She had long ago quit denying to herself that she held more than a small degree of jealousy in regards to Ororo's relationship with Remy. The two just seemed so close, at times she would watch the two together and Remy just seemed so at ease with the woman. Thoughts of him being so connected to a woman that he could have a physical relationship with worried her, and Storm was far from unattractive. At first she did little to hide her distain from Storm, a distain that did not go unnoticed by the weather goddess, Storm let her know in no uncertain terms that she would not let her drive a wedge between them because she could not see past her own fears. Rogue had to be satisfied that the relationship was purely platonic, but once or twice she had caught Remy admiring Ororo's figure, and it did little to sate her own jealousy. Now after she was responsible for separating the two she felt more than a little guilty that she ever harbored such resentment.

The only two members of the team that were not present were Jubilee and Marrow. Jubilee was on a shipping expedition into the city and Marrow was no where to be found.

As she stood there, she made certain to look each of her teammates in the eye, and then she delved into her story.

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Again the door opened, and again a new torturer presented themselves. He had long since lost the ability to keep track of time. He used to be able to tell by the number of times he was visited, always coming on regular intervals, but they had even taken that away from him, instead they now chose to randomly inflict his torture upon him. How many times had they come, in the past month, in the past week, in the past day?

No longer did he view the world from behind his own eyes, they had succeeded in pushing him back into the inner recesses of own his mind. He stood in his fortress, surrounded by the walls that kept them from his psyche. All of his energies were devoted to keeping those walls intact, devoted to keeping him separated from the unbearable pain that lay on the other side.

Deep within his own mind, he recognized a faint sensation coming from the outside physical world. A familiar sensation that he had become far too familiar with, but that he had also succeeded in distancing himself from.

The sound was filled with pain and anguish that would be unimaginable to most people. It was a sound so devoid of hope and humanity that it was more akin to an enraged and mindless animal. His torturers smiled to themselves at their supposed triumph, but buried deep within the fortress that was his own mind, the world's greatest telepath Charles Xavier didn't even hear his own screams.

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His firm had tracked Creed from Canada down to the one place in this world he had no desire to ever see again: Seattle. He had no idea how they managed to keep tabs on him, and it made him curious. Did this have something to do with the contract he was filling; did the file contain some type of information that would allude to an answer? He could only guess until he could get his hands on it, a goal which at the moment seemed to be getting farther and farther out of reach with each mile that the helicopter moved away from the facility.

Why did Creed pick Seattle of all places? Sinister no longer had a base their, he was certain of that because he was the one who destroyed it. He took some small solace in knowing that he had set back Sinister's evil designs so considerably, by the mans own admission it would take him decades to replace the destroyed data that he had accumulated there. But that left Remy with little information to help him answer his question; he was resigned to wait until he had more information until he could reach a conclusion.

The file had a last known location for Creed, a rundown house in the ghettos of a forgotten sector. A place that reeked of crime and back alley deals, were prostitutes retired to after a long night of work and drug dealers ran operations from. The kind of place where individuals who were out of sorts with the law ran to hide until they fell off of the radar or became inconsequential with time, exactly the kind of environment that both Remy and Creed could thrive in.

The helicopter touched down at the airport, the pilot gave him a nod and Remy exited the chopper, stepping foot onto ground that he could already not wait to leave behind him. He quickly made his way through the terminal of the private airport and hailed a cab downtown toward his destination. The driver gave him an odd look, wondering what this man was about, what was his story? Remy's answer to his thought would have been that he didn't have enough time left in his miserable ordinary life to hear such a complicated tale. Instead he just instructed him to drive him to his destination.

Remy walked the steps up to the third floor of his motel, he was specific in asking for this particular room, one with a window that faced out across the street. He quickly assembled the sniper rifle that his firm had provided him, and waited for his prey to make an appearance. It was starting to come back to him, sensations and feelings that brought him back to a time when this came second nature to him. Realizing that he was more on edge than usual, he pulled out the flask that he had recently started carrying and took a swig,

'Ain' gon' be no use if ya all jumpy homme, jus' a little bit to take of de edge.'

He settled into a crouch with his eyes trained on the building across the street, and waited.

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An eerie silence hung in the air and all who were present stared at each other with disbelief. Rogue could do little but stand there, shifting her weight from foot to foot and biting at her lower lip in nervous anticipation.

Never at a loss for words, Hank was the first to speak.

"Well...um...that was quite a story Rogue".

"Ya it was, but I still don't see how that's going to help us find the traitor and bring him back for punishment."

Bobby's comments opened the door for a free for all, no longer were people interested in discussion, just who could make their arguments the loudest, who could hurl the most accusations, who could point there finger and prove that their opinion on the situation was the most valid. Even Ororo and Scott, who always kept a level head in these situations, were caught up in the frenzy. Through it all Rogue just watched.

"You can't actually expect us to believe this garbage! Even if it were true, he's probably going to be responsible for more deaths, the only reason we should find him is to save the world some trouble and put him out of his misery."

"Can it bird brain! If you think loosin' them wings was painful the first time, wait till I carve em off ya!"

"Your on that traitors side Logan? It figures that murders would stick together!".

"And how much death were you responsible for Angel? How many innocents suffered as a result of your actions when you served as death for Apocalypse?"

"That's different Storm! I had no choice, I was forced into it and I didn't know what I was doing."

"And what makes you so certain that Remy was not in the same situation? I know my brother; he would never willingly commit such a cold blooded extermination of innocents!"

"All, I do not see the advantage of continuing down this path, it is proving to be most counterproductive, please, let us calm down and discuss this rationally."

"I see the advantage fine; eventually you'll all come to your senses and realize that the traitor must die."

Warren got behind Bobby and bolstered his argument, "I will go after that scum myself, and I will not rest until he is dead." He was in a frenzy, hate was dripping from his every word, he barely seemed himself.

"As if ya could even take Remy down if ya tried Angel, ya ain't no match foah him an ya know it."

Warren jumped onto the table and spread his metallic wings out to their full and terrifying span, "I am more than a match for him..." The gleam in his eyes was cold; the venom from his statements was almost inhuman. "...I am one of the strong and cannot be defeated!"

The room fell into silence as they all stared at him, he stood there, dumbfounded at his own actions, forced into an introspective view of his own words. "I...I'm sorry I don't know what came over me.", deflated somewhat his words were softer now as he stepped down and resumed his seat. "Warren are you o.k. darling?"

"I'm fine Elizabeth, I just need a minute, thinking about that man has just brought back some old feelings that I thought were buried."

Cyclops finally spoke up, "Look, were getting nothing accomplished like this. No one is going anywhere looking for anyone until we have more information. I agree that Gambit does have some things to answer for..."

A loud crack invaded the room as a large chunk of plaster was blown from the wall. At first everyone looked to Storm, but upon further review all gazes came to rest on a very large, very angry Bishop, who was holding an equally large plasma rifle that was leveled at no one in particular, but from each of the different X-man's point of view, it looked as if it was pointed at them.

"That was on a low setting, if anyone would care to see what a higher setting would do to them please, speak up".

"Damn kid, if ya wanted ta talk ya shoulda just said so."

"Everyone in here is going to sit down and keep their mouths shut until I've said what I have to say."

"O.k. Bishop, go ahead were all listening, it better be good considering what its going to cost to get that wall fixed."

"You all know me, and you know of the future that I come from. In my time the X-men were legends, infallible, everyone thought that they could do no wrong. We all thought that if they would have survived that things would have been different, they would have been better. But despite my warnings it's obvious that none of you have listened to a word I've said."

"Bishop, we get it, Gambit wasn't the traitor and Onslaught has been stopped, were all grateful of the sacrifices you've made."

"Damn it I'm not talking about Onslaught Summers! Just shut up and listen for once instead of trying to control everything. You all know that when I came back I had one goal, to kill the traitor Remy Lebeau..."

Bobby mumbled under his breath "ya, to bad you didn't succeed."

Bishop shot him a paralyzing look and he quickly retracted his gaze to the floor.

"...but when I found out that Remy wasn't the traitor it got me thinking, what was it that turned him so cold? He wasn't an evil man, he couldn't have been, he took me and my sister in off of dangerous streets. But his eyes were hard, like he had seen too much for anyone one man to deal with. I had seen him kill without a thought, like no life mattered to him, they were all disposable, there was no emotion left in the man, just hard, cold, thoughtless pragmatic action. When I came back to this time I was confused at first, everything about him was wrong from what he had become. I didn't understand how the carefree Remy Lebeau of this time, the one with an indomitable spirit and zest for life could have turned into the witness. At first I thought it was because he felt guilt over being the traitor, but when onslaught happened that theory went right out the window. Only now, after witnessing this petty bickering that I thought was beneath the legendary X-men have I realized what the cause was...It was you. You all did it to him, you broke a good man. Even in my time he still had a photograph of you that he kept in his room, sometimes I would catch him taking it out and just staring at it, like he was reliving a better time. He thought of you all as his family, and you betrayed him. Remy isn't the traitor, neither was onslaught, it's all of you".

No one had a response; they all felt ashamed, even those who were in favor of bringing Remy back to the team felt guilty for what had transpired. A few of those who had hated him felt remorse for what they had done; those who still considered him a friend wished that they would have done more.

Bobby didn't know what to think, he didn't really know Gambit, hell no one really knew him. He didn't know what caused him to act the way he did, why he felt it was necessary to hide everything, but he had passed judgments on him all the same, and for that he realized he was wrong. He didn't withhold reservation as far as Remy's character went, he still thought he was responsible for the massacre, but he wished he would have known his reason behind it before he was so quick to write him off as a murderer.

Most around the room that had cause to experienced similar thoughts, they all reflected upon why it was that they hated Remy for so much when they hardly knew the man. After all he had done as a teammate, he risked his life for them since joining the team, even before hand when he saved Ororo from the Shadow King, yet they were all so quick to pass judgment. They were all looking to reason through the situation, to make amends with their own prejudiced against him, except for one.

'Oh man, is this gunna hurt the old pride'. "I was wrong."

"What did ya just say bobby?" Rogue could hardly believe her ears.

"I was wrong about Remy, at least I think I was wrong about the way I acted about it anyways, I...we should have given him a chance to explain, we should give him a chance to explain I mean, when we find him."

He gave a weak smile to Rogue that drifted to Ororo, seeking forgiveness in some small since from the two women who were closest to Gambit.

"I can't believe this! You all are actually buying into this bullshit! Just because you're put into a tough situation does not mean you have the right to go on a killing spree! Even Bishop said the man hadn't changed, he was still a murderer in his time as well! He has always been a murderer; everything else has just been an act!"

Storm was sad for her friend, sad that he could not find the compassion in his heart that she knew was still there. His tenure as death had changed him; it had taken away his boyish innocence and replaced it with the sardonic man she now saw before her.

"This arguing is getting us no where; I'm putting it to a vote. All those in favor of finding Remy and bringing him home raise your hand." Cyclops viewed those in the room and took account of the results, it was basically the result he had expected, except for one surprise.

Storm, Logan, Beast, Rogue, Bobby, Bishop and himself were all in favor. Those who failed to raise their hands were Warren, whom Scott never expected to, Betsy who usually sided with Warren and of all people, the one he thought he could predict the most...Jean.

"Jean?"

"I'm sorry Scott, you don't understand. I've never had anyone who's been able to hide so much from me. I know it sounds horrible but all my life it's how I've gotten to know people, even if its just from stray surface thoughts, it makes me feel...closer to them. I've never been able to establish that connection with Remy, the mans never even given me a errant thought that I could pick up. It's not that he's hiding something; it's that he's hiding everything. I just can't trust him because for all intensive purposes he's a complete stranger to me."

Scott gave her a disappointed look, he expected more from her, they would have to talk about this later.

"O.k. people, now that we've decided what were going to do, we have to decide how were going to do it."


	9. Predator

**Disclaimer: I do not own any marvel characters or ideas, this is just for fun.**

**A/N: Sorry about the rouge thing, I went back and fixed the last chapter, thanks for bringing that to my attention, I'm a hoorible speler.**

**CH9: Predator**

The facility and equipment was more than adequate, with this technology he could advance his research tenfold. And soon he would no longer have to worry about acquiring specimens, being able to devout all of his attention to his invaluable research. His current specimen was hardly worth his trouble, she provided no real insight into the mutant genome, in fact she should have already been exterminated in order cleanse the genetic pool. Perhaps he would use her to test one of his new viruses, yes; it would be quite interesting to see how his newest creation reacted to her particular mutation. He wondered how she had managed to survive thus far; perhaps it was time to find out.

"Your struggles are useless, you only waste your energy, they do not even serve to delay the inevitable. I can easily medicate you into paralysis and make you watch while I dissect you."

"What do you want with me freak? Let me go now and I promise I'll make your death quick!"

"Really? I find that doubtful. How has such an ugly creature survived in this world, tell me, how did you manage?"

"Fuck you! You know exactly how I managed! I know it was you who killed my people! You're a fucking monster, I'll see you dead!"

It hit Sinister like a slap in the face, how did a being of his superior intelligence overlook the opportunities in this situation?

"You are a morlock, you are the child that Lebeau rescued from the massacre."

"Don't you dare speak that name to me! The gene traitor did nothing but murder my people."

He considered this, and it struck him as quite humorous, however the laugh that flowed from his amusement was less than comforting to Marrow, who was currently staring ainto her own death.

"You do not know do you child? Did you ever wonder how you were the sole survivor of the massacre, how you alone made it out of the tunnels alive? Lebeau saved you child, he intervened on your behalf and carried you to safety."

The revelation was not made by Sinister out of any pity, he had no desire to bring reconciliation between the two, he hardly cared for such matters. His only concern was how he could twist the situation to his own advantage. The added bonus of watching her suffer emotionally as a result from having the one truth in the world she thought certain ripped away from her pleased him even more.

"No, it's not true, he was your servant, he was responsible, he couldn't have."

"Oh but he did, perhaps you will be of use to me after all, yes I believe that I will keep you alive for now, you could prove quite useful as leverage. Lebeau always was weak when it came to the helpless, unfortunately it has never done anything but hold him back from his true potential."

He was quite pleased with himself; this latest acquisition was not necessary, but useful none the less. All the pieces were falling into place. Xavier was a breath away from breaking, Lebeau was bound sooner or later to walk right into his grasp, into the carefully laid trap that he had placed, and Creed was soon to be captured. Yes, it was all going according to plan, only one acquisition was left to be made, and if things went as they should, that one as well would come to him.

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"I think I got somethin' slim."

Wolverine had been scouring the streets, pressing his contacts for any information that they had. He knew that it was all valuable; every shred of information could be the one that he was looking for. After all his searching, his relentless trek through the stench and slime of the streets, his answer didn't come from the depths he was crawling through, but from higher up.

"A guy I know, he's a Fed, told me an interestin little story about the recent influx of counterfeit bills into the city."

"Whats that got to do with Gambit? Are you saying he's into the counterfeiting business now, that dosen't seem like him."

"Na, Gumbo's to smart to leave a paper trail like that. The reason for the new bills circulatin is cause a Federal Mintin press went missin from the reserve a few weeks ago."

"And they think Gambit is behind it?"

"They don't know who's behind it, they been lookin fer any kind of information but they been comin up dry. Sounds like him though."

"Why is that, couldn't someone else have pulled it off?"

"I know you only got one eye but even you can't be this blind. Were talkin the Federal Reserve here, place makes Fort Knox look like its got revolvin doors. They even got detectors that sense when a mutant uses their powers in the facility, sets off alarms like an air raid. No, this has the Cajun written all over it."

"So how does this help us find Gambit?"

"Easy, gotta find the press first, I figure once we get that far we can trace it back to the fence, then with a little persuasion we can get em to tell us who he fenced it for. Gumbo's good...

Wolverine tapped his nose and released a feral smile.

"...but even he cant escape the nose, I'll at least be able to track him somewhere to give us a startin point, maybe someone has seen him around."

"O.k. then, lets find the press and see where it takes us."

"Already on it bub."

'_Great, that covers that angle, but now we have to track down Trask.'_

"Have you heard anything about Trask?"

"Nope, the words still out though, we'll get somethin' sooner or later."

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Remy was a patient man by trade. Although sometimes on outward appearances he seemed less than so, when he felt it was needed he could wait, it was a necessity of his craft. But this was testing even his endurance, 22 hrs straight he had been waiting at that window for some sign of Creed, but so far all that he had witnessed were a few drug deals and a hooker getting beat up by her pimp. The fact that he had more than enough bullets to carry out the job crossed his mind, he toyed with the notion of taking a practice shot at the pimp, but then quickly pushed the idea aside, he couldn't blow his cover this soon in the operation. He began to wonder if he had gotten bad Intel from the firm, or if he was loosing his touch and Creed picked up on his presence and had already skipped town, hardly likely though, Creed would be more likely to come right after him, there was no love lost between them on either side.

The fact that he was even having these thoughts only proved to him that his concentration was starting to wane, his eyelids felt like they had weights attached to them and his blinks were getting steadily longer with each repetition. Just when he thought he was going to slip into unconsciousness there was something that snatched him from his anticipated sleep. A large hulking figure was standing in the shadows of the alley, watching his fellow patrons of the night conduct their sordid affairs, except something about him screamed that he didn't belong. His massive size wasn't too uncommon; he had seen plenty of thugs and gang bangers who had spent a majority of their time in the gym to up their intimidation factor. It was the way that he tried to hide it, it was cool outside, but not cold enough to warrant the oversized coat that he wore, Remy was about the only person he knew that wore a duster no matter what the weather was. And his interest in the common situation on the street was difficult to grasp, what was it that he was so interested in, what was he waiting for? Then it struck him, he was watching, in anticipation, as if he already knew that his moment of opportunity was at hand. He posture was too wrong, too aggressive; he was waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Remy took his survey of the street, and he spotted his target. A girl, no more than 19 years old who was standing on the side of the street, waiting for her next customer. Even though he couldn't see his face he knew that it was Creed, and if it wasn't then there was about to be one less warped mind to pollute the world. Remy took position behind his rifle and pointed it at Creed; he reached up to take the cover off of the end of his scope, waiting until the last minute so that the animal wouldn't notice any reflection of light off of the glass lens. The light outside was dim, the city obviously didn't hold to much concern for the safety of the individuals in this part of town, luckily for Remy his eyes afforded him the luxury of not needing an abundance of light.

He took a deep calming breath as he placed the cross hairs on his target, making sure that they hovered over the head, one shot was all he would get, he could not afford to wound and allow him to limp away. As he placed his finger on the trigger he felt free, exhilarated beyond belief, he suddenly remembered why this type of work had appealed to his darker side.

He flipped the safety, took one last steadying breath and began the slow squeeze on the trigger.

Before the mechanism could send the firing pin down, slamming into the back of the cartridge to bring forth a tiny shard of death from the end of his rifle, his PDS started to vibrate in his pocket.

_'Merde! Wat de fuck is dis t'ing goin' off fo' right now of all moments!'_

He took out his PDS and clicked on the message button, he couldn't believe what he was reading.

Gambit: Hold position, do not engage target; continue surveillance until back up arrives. You will receive further instruction when they reach your location. -Dragon

_'What de hell is Draydon telling me to hold fo, don' he know wat kinda monster dis is, I wonder if he doin it jus' cause he worried about my safety, proly don't want ta loose another operator.'_

He paused for a brief moment and considered his options.

He got back behind his rifle, unsure of what to do next. He couldn't kill Creed now, for some reason or another they wanted him brought back alive. Plus it would just be wrong, he could no longer tell himself that it was just part of the job; if he followed through with this he would an assassin.

He tracked Creed through his scope; carefully watching his movements, wondering what he would do if he went for the girl across the street. He had already resigned himself to his new mission of reconnaissance; he began to wonder if he was really going to follow through with the hit in the first place, he doubted that he still had it in him.

As he watched Creed he suddenly remembered Paris, the look of his brother as he was hung over the ledge of the roof. A phantasm of pain gripped his stomach were he still had three faint scars that were barely noticeable unless you knew to look for them, he remembered the Morlock Tunnels, the carnage and the death, the walls that were painted red with blood and Creed while he bathed in it. He remembered the guilt that he had felt, that he still felt for being part of those actions no matter how unwillingly, he remembered Creed laughing at him and calling him soft, thinking him weak for resisting the slaughter and not delighting in the sheer terror of the moment. He remembered that Creed was a rabid animal.

_'Fuck it'_

And he squeezed the trigger.

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"Tell me sinister, how did you allow The One to get sent on this pursuit of Creed? You know that I wish him handed over to me unharmed."

"I assure you that it is quite necessary, I must have Creed to unlock the full powers of Lebeau, who has the unique talents required to bring me Creed. He has always been gifted at accomplishing such tasks."

"Explain yourself."

"When I found Lebeau his powers were flaring out of control, he could scarcely contain them. He was inadvertently blowing objects and people apart just by looking at them or thinking of them, his mind couldn't handle it, he was on the verge of a mental break down. I had to place a mental block in the pathways of his brain that allowed him to access his power, to explain it in terms that you can understand it was more of a genetic lock which denied him entry into his own abilities. There is only one key to this lock, and due to Gambits uncanny penchant for destroying my research I had to embed the key into a median that I knew would survive until I was ready to retrieve it."

"You placed this key into Creed. Very clever, he is one of the strong, quite a suitable carrier."

"Yes, now I must retrieve this key from Creed's DNA so that when the time comes we can use it to fully restore Lebeau's power."

"Very well Sinister, you have proven yourself worthy as a servant of Apocalypse thus far."

Apocalypse leaned forward in his throne with eager anticipation on his face.

"And what of the other ally we seek?"

"It will take time, but he shall join with us soon enough."

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: "If the first gains the ally he seeks then they will prove quite formidable for The One"

"Your assuming that The One makes it that far."

: "I do not believe that at this point we have any choice but to assume".

"Does The First realize what he will unleash? What the consequences of his plan will be."

: "Most likely, but even more likely he does not care."

"You seem worried about The One, do you care for him?"

:"How could I not? I watched him grow, I am directly responsible for much of what he has become, it is as if he is my child."

"How unfortunate for you then."

"Sadly yes."

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He could almost taste her warm blood; to him it was already a reality, a certainty of life that might as well have been cataloged in the archives of history, that's how confident the predator was in his ability to kill. It wasn't second nature to him, it was first, he knew no other instinct above the one of animal blood lust. He stood and watched, savoring the anticipation of the kill, waiting for the perfect opportunity that would instill the most fear, that would send adrenaline surging through her blood, it was like adding seasoning to his meal, and he would savor every bite.

To her, it was just another night of work, she was dead on her feet but needed one last john to put her earnings on par with the other girls or her pimp would get mad, it wasn't good for her when he was mad. She was thinking about little else but her aching feet, _'I bet waitresses get aching feet like this, maybe I could try that instead'_. She wondered when the man who was standing in the shadows watching her would get the courage to approach her; she was getting tired of waiting.

Creed was so enamored with his latest victim that he almost didn't catch the movement from the window of the third floor of the hotel across the street...almost. It caught his attention immediately, ever since those mercenaries had tried to take him down he'd been extra wary, he doubted it was them, there was no way that they would be able to find him again so soon.

He caught a familiar scent, it caused the hairs of his mane to bristle and put him on edge. It was them….he saw four figures walk into the lobby of the rundown pay by the hour place and blinding rage overtook him, he was going to enjoy gutting these guys, seems like they just can't learn their lesson. Again he caught the movement in the third story window, the figure returning instead of retreating like last time. He was curious, he decided to make his play and force his stalkers hand, he looked up directly at the window so that his watcher would know that he knew, and that their life was now forfeit.

And as he tilted his head up to look, Creed's keen animalistic eyesight picked up one smoldering red on black orb staring back at him. As the recognition came to him and words were beginning to attach to the memories that raced through his head, the bullet that exited from his executioner's rifle at such a high velocity that it left the sound of the explosion behind it entered into his brain. The shot was so accurate and the effect so efficient that Creed had lost consciousness before the sound even reached him, so that literally, he never even knew what hit him.

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	10. Revelation

CH: 10

The dull thud of the silenced rifle echoed off the metal trashcans and dumpsters of the street below, few could recognize such a sophisticated weapon's signature, there was no need for silent attacks on this street, any silence needed was assured by the unspoken code that ensured no one would ever hear or see anything. Those who did recognize the sound knew that it was time to move their affairs elsewhere. But the sound also served another purpose, like a sprinter in the blocks the gun shot released him, and Remy's internal clock started ticking.

_'Merde, Merde, Merde.'_

His trained fingers began to expertly disassemble his weapon, he quickly stowed it away and began to remove all evidence of his presence from the room.

_'Five minutes tops, mebbe less, gotta get down der an finish de job, he gon' wake up soon 'nough, even wolvie couldn't keep him down fo' too long an' he put a claw right through his head.'_

Good, the room was sterile, even close scrutiny would reveal no signs of his presence. He slung his coat over his W&B uniform that he had been outfitted with, he felt the familiar weight of his bo-staff in the inside pocket, and the unfamiliar weight of his newly acquired combat knife, a weapon that he hardly wanted but that he knew would be required to finish the job.

Once last quick scan of the room to ensure clean-up was complete, he grabbed his gear and made his way to the exit.

_'Four minutes easy, look like ya might jus' pull dis one off homme'_

As he was about to open the door when the four members of his team he thought he had left behind burst through the door. They saw the room and his weapon already put away, they immediately knew.

"Shit Gambit! You were supposed to wait for us!"

'_Fuck! Dis ain' good.'_

"Relax fox, he ain' dead yet, jus' close, if we don' get down der right now though he gon' be long gone by de time we do, we need to get these restraints on him ASAP D'accord?"

_'He gon' blow my cover as soon as he wake up, I gotta find a way an make sure he don' talk or dis job gon' be over fo' it starts.'_

"O.k. lets get down there and lock this one down guys."

"Here fox, you take de restraints an' take care of it, der was a witness down on de street dat I gotta take care of, I'll meet you back at de landin' strip."

"Fine, make sure you dump the body somewhere they wont find it until were gone."

"D'accord homme, I see you in a while."

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"Is he awake?"

"Yes Mr. Trask, his vital readings are all indicative that he is fully conscious."

"Give him a shot of epinephrine; I want to make sure that he is fully aware of the situation."

The Doctor fumbled through the various instruments of torture that were strewn about the cart that had been wheeled in for this particular session. Pulling out the syringe she injected its contents into the IV bag that hung at Xavier's side, the steady beep of his heart monitor sped up.

"Professor? Professor Xavier, I know you are in there somewhere. You are proving to be quite resilient to our tactics. It is rare that I make a personal appearance with one of our subjects but you are quite important to our project."

Xavier didn't acknowledge the presence of Trask, in fact he had not moved of his own volition in sometime now.

"You do realize that you could save yourself this unnecessary pain by just cooperating don't you?"

Nothing.

"Very well then professor, it is a shame that after we are through there will be nothing left of your great mind to salvage. You will break of course; it is only a matter of time. I suppose that you believe your X-men will come for you, I could only hope so, it will save me the trouble of hunting them down myself".

Trask though he saw a spark in Xavier's eye, some glint of recognition in response to his threat on the X-men. But Xavier only sat there, unmoving. He continued, reveling in the sound of his own voice.

"You see Professor, you have a valuable talent, and I have a need for that talent. Somehow when you hook into that machine of yours you are able to locate any mutant on the planet, which is a very useful skill to me. Do you know how time consuming and expensive it is to hire mercenaries to track these mutants down? Your Cerebro unit was difficult to reproduce in its entirety but we have a reasonable facsimile, what I cannot reproduce is your ability. New equipment that has been developed is quite successful at hiding the signatures of mutants, they have managed to completely fool my sensors, but they cannot hide from your physic ability can they? Once you are broken we will have control of your mind, you will work for me one way or the other, it makes no difference."

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As he walked down the dark abandoned street he reached into his pocked to retrieve his vibrating PDS,

Gambit: Target secure, heading back to rendezvous point, estimated time of departure 1 hour. Take care of the witness and report back. –Fox

He sat down at the bus stop bench and tried to steady his shaking hand. Of course there was no witness, none that would matter anyways; he just needed to buy himself some time to figure out a game plan. Luckily the firm was very thorough in its research, the restraints for Creed included a built in sedative delivery system that packed enough punch to put an elephant down for a few days. But what was he going to do when Creed woke up? He would smell Remy's scent sooner or later, it was unavoidable, and when he did he would let anyone and everyone know who he was, his cover as Jean Paul Gautreau would be blown wide open, he dropped his head into his hands in frustration.

'_Homme, you coulda used any name in dis world and ya give dem de one dat everyone know you by, soon as dat animal yell Gambit dey gonna know an dis heist is goin' right down de shitter.' _

Creed wasn't dead yet but damn it if he didn't try to make it happen. He had every intent of finishing him off before he was interrupted. Oddly enough though, the man who could torture himself for things that were completely out of his control felt almost no remorse at all, what little he did feel was directed at his failure to eliminate Creed. He felt a little lighter, as if justice was being served. If law enforcement were able to capture him and hold him for long enough he would almost certainly get the death penalty. Remy was just expediting the process a little.

It was odd to him; he started out only wanting to further his reputation as a thief. But this job had suddenly evolved into something more, he was no longer only interested in filling this contract. There were questions here that needed to be answered, about the job he was working and about his involvement in it. First and foremost Creed had to die, that was a certainty, he would not leave with the item until he was certain that Creed could no longer harm another innocent in this world. Second, what was this facility doing? Did he want to be responsible for whatever tortures they were inflicting upon mutants? He doubted that many of the "subjects" that they held had done anything to deserve the treatment that they were getting, if he stood by and did nothing it would be the same as contributing to their situations. But what could he do about it? One nagging unavoidable solution weighed in the back of his mind, there was one resource that he knew could help these people, but he was not yet ready to face them. It would be selfish to attempt to do it himself and fail, dooming the victims to a hopeless existence, if he was compromised then they truly were lost. Maybe their was a way to get them an anonymous message after he had escaped, either way he was going to have to hurry, time was running out and with his new self imposed additional objective of eliminating Creed he would have to coordinate the events perfectly.

He pulled out his PDS and typed in the confirmation,

Fox: Witness eliminated, I am en-route to rendezvous. –Gambit

He made his way down the street searching for a safer location that would allow him to hail a cab back to the landing strip. He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes and felt the familiar pack of cards that were almost a distant memory to him. It had been so long since he had used them, he had gotten so far away from who he once was.

Something behind him caught his attention; he turned around to find the bench that he had been sitting on glowing a bright shade of pink,

'_What de fuck?'_

He almost made it two steps before the forces that pushed the bench to its molecular limit finally released, and the concussion of the blast took him from his feet and sent him hurdling through the air.

He had time for one thought before he met the pavement that was rushing toward him.

'_Merde, not again.'_

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The compelling feeling to have the wind rushing around his body was too hard to resist, he had to fulfill the need of flight, the need to feel free from the bonds of the earth. But even as he soared through the air his desire was not quenched, something was missing from the action, like an addiction that needed to be sated there was something more to be satisfied, but he could not think of what.

'_What is this calling, something is pulling me but I can't figure out what it is'._

Frustrated and curious, Warren did the only thing he could think of; he followed the mysterious pull in the direction that it took him, like a beacon calling him he flew west.

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"Has anyone seen Marrow?"

He held the sigh in that he felt like releasing; this team was getting harder and harder to lead. Wasn't this supposed to get easier over time? People were starting to take off with no notice and rarely told anyone where they were going, how were they supposed to carry on with the dream if no one even cared anymore?

These thoughts and more were becoming common to Scott Summers lately; it seemed to him that few of his teammates were as committed as they once were. He couldn't blame then entirely, after all that had happened to them he sometimes felt the same way, he just couldn't let it show. He had toyed with the idea of giving them all some time off, but he was worried that he would have trouble brining some of them back.

He thought of Wolverine, oddly he was one that he knew would come back, eventually, like he always did. He was more worried about those like Rogue, who would no doubt take off looking for Remy and not return until she found him, and if she did she might not come back at all, he doubted that Remy wanted to see any of them ever again as it were. And then there was Warren, who was becoming more and more distant as of late, the team's decision to go after Gambit obviously hadn't helped his disposition any, speaking of Warren he was another wayward X-man that he was having trouble locating, where were these people disappearing too?

"I haven't seen her sugah, she ain't been around since I got back from seein my motha."

"Wonderful, just what I need, a confused and pissed off mutant teenage terrorist with an attitude that's gone missing".

"I'm sure she'll turn up, she's probably just down in tha tunnels or somthin."

"Maybe your right, have you seen Logan? I need to speak with him."

"He's in tha War Room yellin at the communicator screen."

"Thanks Rogue."

Scott made his way to the War Room, before he was even 50 ft from the door he could hear Wolverine yelling. He opened the door and found the source of his aggravation up on the communicator screen, Col. Nick Fury.

"What the hell do ya mean ya can't tell me nothin' more! This is bullshit and you know it Fury!"

"You have to understand that I do have obligations that go beyond any favors that you might think I owe you Wolverine, this information is classified, you'll have to accept my word that the proper government agencies are handling the situation."

"And what you hafta understand is that I don't give a rats ass about your classified info or your government agencies, I need this info, If I don't get it from you then I'm gunna hafta get it somewhere else, and I don't think you want me barkin' up that tree!"

"I've already told you everything I'm at liberty to disclose, I'd strongly advise you to keep the X-men out of this one, it's out of your league."

"Bub, you don't have a clue what league were in."

"Be that as it may, I believe this conversation is over, Fury out."

Before Wolverine could let out another retort the view screen returned to blackness, leaving only questions for the on looking Summers. Without turning around and still staring at the view screen Logan verbally expressed his aggravation.

"Can ya believe this shit Cyke?"

"I'm taking it that you didn't get much information from Fury on Trask?"

"Oh no, got plenty of info, just none of it worth a damn."

"Such as?"

"It seems that our boy Trask was workin' a top level project that had some questionable backin' from a couple government agencies."

"What kind of project?"

"That's what the jerk wouldn't tell me, just that it involves Trask".

"You don't think that he's trying to bring back the sentinels do you?"

"That's one thing he made perfectly clear, this ain't got nothin' to do with the sentinels. He musta known that if we thought it did we'd tear this country apart lookin' for em."

"Do you have any other sources of information that you can tap?"

"Ya I got a few, some lower level guys that might be on surveillance, I'll see what I can dig up. Right now I gotta follow up on a lead on Gumbo."

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She awoke in darkness, she tried to move her hand to rub the blurriness from her eyes but found her mobility impaired by leather straps that held her to the table. She began to work a bone fragment loose from her wrist, luckily it protruded at an angle that would allow her to work through the tough leather.

She heard footsteps down the hall and quickly feinted sleep, when no one came she continued her work, tediously working inch by inch until she had one arm free. She quickly loosened the rest of the straps that were holding her down and slid off the table.

She picked up the tattered remains of her clothes off of the floor beside her, Sinister had felt in necessary to completely disrobe her in order to leave feeling as vulnerable and humiliated as possible, but he only served to heighten her anger.

She had no time to sort through the feelings that were starting to overcome her, she knew from Sinister's words that Lebeau was in danger, but what did she care what happened to him? Wouldn't his demise bring some closure to her life? She would have liked to be the one to deliver the sentence of death, but if she had to let someone else kill him then so be it; her primary objective was to get out of this situation alive.

As she was moving down the dark hallway she began to devise a plan as to how she would contact the X-men to warn them about Sinister's plans for Lebeau. She halted for a moment to consider this, did she really want to warn them? She had thought that nothing would please her more than to see him dead, but now she began to wonder about her own feelings. She was confused at her own thoughts; perhaps she wanted Lebeau to live if only to speak with him, to get some sort of history about what had actually happened. No one had been able to tell her for sure except Sinister, and he only revealed what he wanted her to hear. Lebeau would be able to explain exactly what had happened to her people that day. As she turned the corner a hand grabbed her by the back of her neck and flung her back down the length of the hall. She skittered across the floor, bone spurs snapping off in sickening crunches as they left a trail of blood the further she slid. As she began to rise she received help to her feet in the form of Sinister slamming her pinned against the wall by her throat. As she began to loose consciousness he saw the annoyed look on his face.

"It seems that you will prove troublesome to me if I keep you here, I will have to move you to a facility that is more adequate to keep you from providing me with distraction."

A tesseract opened up behind them and he stepped through, dragging her behind him. When they emerged on the other side she found that her conditions had not improved, he unceremoniously threw her against the wall, farthest away from a door that provided a sliver of light entering through a crack in the bottom. Sinister turned to leave, stepped through the door and slammed it behind him. He was greeted on the other side,

"Oh, good afternoon Mr. Trask, I didn't know you were down here, are you here to see subject X?"

"Yes, I believe that I will pay the good professor a visit this afternoon, it seems that it is time to speed up his treatment."

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	11. Chapter 11

Ch11:

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the smog filled night sky.

'What de Fuck was dat?'

Sitting up he looked back to where there was a crater left on the side of the road, where just a moment ago there used to be a bench. He stared at his hands, his gaze an accusation of betrayal, until he remembered that he never touched the bench. The thought that his latent powers might somehow be re-emerging past the control that Sinister had given him set him on edge; he was suddenly hesitant to touch anything. The realization that he didn't used to need his hands was an afterthought, at this point he was driven by pure paranoia.

_'All of it would be for nothing, every thing dat I did for Sinister to get dis control would have been for nothin, he took every t'ing from me, an the only excuse dat I had for doin' what I did is goin' away too. All dem lives, dey be lost for nothin'._

He snapped out of his contemplation, he had little time for self pity right now. Despite any demons that were in his past, or any that had ever surfaced before him, he was always ready to display the firm countenance of solid determination. His concentration was never broken easily, his training as a thief had ensured that, he wasn't about to start abandoning that training now. With a great mental effort he pushed his feelings to the back of his mind where he knew he would have to deal with them later, most likely with the help of a familiar aid in the form of alcohol.

He didn't intentionally start drinking more heavily than usual these days; it had just developed over time. He couldn't remember a time when there wasn't a bottle to turn too, in the guild culture societies laws were something that were non-existent, only the rules of the guild applied, and their was nothing saying that you couldn't enjoy a drink regardless of what age you were. But it had started well before that for him, before he was accepted into the guild and was permitted entry into their social establishments, before he was even adopted by Jean Luc.

Liquor was a popular currency among the Wino-Os and bums of the street. He had often seen alcohol exchanged in place of hard cash on numerous occasions; he couldn't have avoided dealing with the stuff if he had wanted to. As a young child he was accepting bottles of cheap whiskey for goods that he had lifted form tourist, he always kept the cash but on occasion he had wallets, coats, purses or other vairous miscellaneous items left over from a mark and he couldn't just waste it, to waste on the street was to invite misfortune. He was always curious about the stuff, he had seen the groan ups go through extraordinary lengths to attain it; in fact it was what drove most of them to do the things they did, that and drugs. As a young child it was only natural that he was curious.

The first time that he tried it he thought it was the most fowl tasting thing that he had ever experienced, it burned his throat and made him gag, but the feeling of warmness that followed made it worth the initial discomfort. So like it was bad medicine he would endure the discomforts so that he could experience the desired after effects. But since it was valuable in exchange for cash or other goods he could never afford to drink much and only did so sparingly, he had only gotten into it heavily after the night that showed him a glimpse of how terrible the world really was, a glimpse that he found to be just the beginning in his later years.

Child prostitution was not rampant, nor was it as uncommon as it should have been, yet those endeavors were left to children who had no other value, the ones who couldn't earn on the street by stealing. Remy being an accomplished pickpocket never had the burden off worrying about such things; he could pull in ten times as much revenue in half the time that someone pulling tricks could. The thought that their were twisted men on the streets who never thought about paying for something they could get for free never crossed his young naive mind. When they left him behind a dumpster broken and bleeding he turned to the only thing that he could think off to take away the pain and submerse the memories in a wonderful pool of mind numbing effectiveness.

Since then when things were at their worst for him emotionally he would turn to the bottle, it was a habit that he never abused at other times, but at the pinnacle of his misery it was always there waiting for him. Antarctica wasn't the worst place that his old friends and family had left him, by far the more devastating location that he was abandoned to was the personal hell of his own misery and self deprecation.

After he was certain that he was able to continue on with no distracting thoughts, Remy glanced down at his watch.

'Damn, 30 minutes, bes' get movin homme, no time for a cab after de Fireworks.'

Remy located the nearest car on the street and casually walked toward it, drawing out his tools in the process. The mechanism to the door was sprung so quickly it looked to the casual observer as if he used a key. He ripped off the steering wheel column cover and crossed the appropriate wires, it was up and running in a few seconds.

'Good ole 'merican made cars, can' hotwire em like dis no mo'.'

He drove to the landing strip, stretching out his spatial awareness as far as it would go. He pushed it to the normal limit that he had been accustomed too but found that he had a little more range than usual and kept pushing. The farther out he pushed the less defined objects and movement became, he was still surprised none the less at the range he was achieving, it was starting to take too much concentration so he pulled it back a bit and began feeling for any police vehicles. When he was satisfied that he had found no police, his foot found the accelerator. He began dodging in and out of traffic, speeding up the whole time, he had to be careful to remember that his reactions were superior to the handling of the car and to not over exert its performance capabilities. He had to get to the chopper in case the sedative failed and Creed woke up, he would hate to do it but if Creed blew his cover he would have to take out everyone, he hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but ever the pragmatic he knew there was now more at stake than the score that would set him on top of the thieving world.

He made it back to the airstrip with ten minutes to spare; he ditched the car after wiping it down for prints and went out to the helo-pad on foot. He was impressed to find his team already waiting for him and ready to go, and relieved to find that Creed was locked into full body containment chamber that more resembled a coffin than anything else.

"He wake up homme?" His hands nervously brushed against a deck of cards in the pocket of his duster.

"Na, whatever they put in the system for sedative kept him unconscious, I've never seen anyone take a round straight to the head and not die, its unbelievable what these muties can do, guys like this make the job worth while, that and the pay".

He breathed an internal sigh of relief, it looked as if he had enough time to finish what he started without any collateral damage.

"Fo sure homme, dis ones one of de wors', lets get him back to de facility so we can hit de bar."

"Jesus Gambit, is that all you ever think about?"

"Non, but dis one has lef' a bad taste in my mouth, need ta wash it out wit some'tin strong eh?"

"I hear you."

Fox gave the pilot the signal to take off, and the five teammates plus one unwilling passenger took to the air and headed back to the facility. He thought about sleep but doubted it would come to him, he began visualizing the layout of the facility and how he was going to get into the clean room to lift the files that he had to retrieve to fill his contract. It was all starting to become anti-climatic, there was going to be no daring break in, no secret agent mission impossible scenarios, in fact he could very well find himself in the situation to just walk in and take what he wanted. If anyone knew how hard it was for him to get on the inside they would appreciate the difficulty of the job, it wasn't often that infiltration was in a Thief's repertoire, it was a little less glamorous than his usual M.O. but it was essentially unavoidable in this case. He glanced back at the containment unit, and for whole ride back Gambit had to fight the conscious urge to charge the metal containment unit that held Creed prisoner.

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"It is starting, just as you said it would, it seems that Sinister's meddling is not as strong as he thought."

: "Sinister had nothing to do with The One's power suppression; he only allows it to happen because he is afraid of his full potential".

"Then what was the release that we witnessed? His powers inadvertently activated."

: "Yes, it seems that his recent mental state had something to do with that, apparently guilt is not weighing as heavily on his mind as it once was, by attempting to end the life of the one known as Creed he has freed himself of some of his burden".

"What will happen then, if he succeeds in his design to destroy Creed?"

: "He will advance beyond what he has ever known, his powers will most likely return in full force, even if he does not, I believe that Sinister will be successful in restoring them to their full potential."

"I thought you said that Sinister's meddling had nothing to do with it?"

: "Yes, but The One does not know that, in his mind he will loose the ability to control his power, he will believe that he cannot contain them and they will flare out of control as a result."

"And if that happens?"

The one who had been watching Gambit for his entire life looked as if all the despair in the world were suddenly laid before her.

: "If that happens then for the sake of this world we will terminate his existence, leaving this world for the rule of Apocalypse would be better than seeing it destroyed in it's entirety."

"Is there no other way? All of this will be for nothing then?"

: "Not entirely, there is a possibility... perhaps, but it is too remote to place any faith in, and it remains entirely in his hands, we shall wait and see the how he plays the course that is laid before him."

"You already know."

: "I suspect, nothing more."

"You do not look hopeful."

: "...I suppose that I do not."

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One advantage to his metal wings was that he did not tire, which was good, because the farther west that he flew, the stronger the call became, until stopping was nothing more than an afterthought. Even the throws of sleep did not affect him, because his blinding rage drove him on to find in his mind the greatest evil that walked the Earth, Gambit. He did not know what force it was that was beckoning him, he hardly cared. He only knew that it was strong, and he could not deny it's calling.

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First day on the job, Mike was eager to prove himself, his cousin had pulled some strings to get him this job, it was easy work, just guard the door and don't let in any unfamiliar faces. If it worked out then maybe it would turn into something more. Either way he felt like his days of tossing boxes around in the warehouse were long gone.

When that first unfamiliar face showed up he was more than ready to deal with it, he thought. The guy was no more than 5'6", Mike always considered himself a pretty big guy, but his brothers kid probably wouldn't have trouble dealing with this midget.

"Sorry pal, this is a private place of business, no entry."

"I ain't your pal bub, and I got business inside with yer boss, you'll be steppin' aside if ya know whats good fer ya."

"I don't think you heard me little man, I said get going."

The feral grin that he was protruding beneath the brim of the mans hat gave him second thoughts about his perceived position of dominance.

As he crashed through the door on his way to a broken jaw, he wondered if they would take him back down at the warehouse.

Just as he suspected the commotion brought the rest of the guards to the front door, he counted seven in all, four up front and three concealed in the back carrying automatic weapons. He fought back the urge to release his claws, he was here on business, yet the desire to get in a good scrape was always present.

"I ain't here fer no trouble, just listen, I need ta talk ta Hammerhead, he knows me. Tell him Wolverine is here ta see em."

"I don't care who you are, no one comes barging in like this and gets whatever their asking for, who the hell do you think you are?"

A calmer man at least ten years his senior leaned over and whispered something into his ear. He looked at his questioningly; the elder man only nodded his head then gestured back to Logan.

"O.k. tough guy, we'll take you to the boss, and if you are who you say you are and he actually wants to see you then I guess you ain't got nothing to worry about."

"And if I ain't?"

The man smiled and Logan heard the simultaneous cocking of several weapons.

"Lets just say you better hope that you receive a warmer welcome than you gave Mike here. Jake, take Mike down to the hospital, if they ask any questions tell em that he fell or something. Right this way...sir."

They led Logan through a few doors, along the way he noted several men who were leaning a little to nonchalantly against the wall, protruding bulges gave them away as hired hands.

_'Huh, looks like ol Hammerhead has moved up in the world since we last met. Dosen't seem like he got any smarter though if he's still surroundin himself with clowns like this'_.

After a few turns they led him through a cast iron door that had two armed guards posted outside, they entered a combination onto the keypad and led him down the stairs that were on the other side of the door.

_'How in the hell did he afford this type of security, I don't care if he's got an unlimited cash flow now or not, he coulnd't have strung together this operation that quick.'_

The basement looked like every other part of the building, with one exception, the walls were made of solid steel and there were piles of cash laying around, the smell gave it away as being brand new, looks like he was right on the proverbial money this time.

Toward the back of the room a rather anxious looking Hammerhead was having an animated conversation with someone on the phone, after a few pointed words he slammed it down and looked up, the expression on his face was as close to priceless as Wolverine had ever seen.

"Wolverine! What the hell are you doing here!"

"Been a while bub, I take it you ain't to happy to see me."

The men who were standing around drew out their weapons and Hammerhead only got more agitated than before. He sighed and relaxed his posture when Wolverine didn't immediately attack.

"You want we should waste him boss and dump the body somewhere?"

"Put those guns away you idiots, your just gunna piss him off, I don't feel like dealin with a pissed off Wolverine today, I got enough problems as it is."

The confused guards all complied with his orders and stood around nervously.

"Don't just stand there, take a walk, if he wanted trouble you would have had more than you could handle already."

After a momentary pause and a few mumbles the guards left them to their discussion.

"I don't suppose this is a social call, an being as how you ain't roughed no body up I'm guessin you ain't just lookin for a good time, that only leaves one thing, you want information."

"Shit Hammer, ya ain't half as dumb as I remember you being."

"We'll being as how you don't remember much anyways I won't take offense to that."

"Hmpf, looks like ya got a sense of humor while you were at it, I only need one thing and then I'll leave ya to yer business."

"You an everybody else, go ahead then, I'm listnin."

"The press, who'd ya get it from?"

"Ha, what do you really want? You still have as many contacts as I do and most of the same ones, you know damn good and well who lifted that press, it's all anyone is talking about lately, the man came out of the blue, pulled off the impossible then went back under without a word. You got any idea how many contractors have been beating my door down trying to get some contact info for him? Seems like every one in the business is trying to run through him now that they heard he was back, he's the golden ticket for every middleman and fence in the game."

"That's exactly why I'm here, I need ta know who contracted it fer him."

"No contractor, this one was freelance."

"Then what the hell are you doin with it if he pulled the job for himself."

"Hey I don't know what he was thinking, or if he was at all, alls I know is the boss paid a small fortune for that damn thing."

"Well he had to pay it to someone."

"Ya, there weren't no contractor but there was a fence, you know that Gambit doesn't deal direct, he went through a guild guy here in New York like he always does."

"I need a name."

"Can't help you, I answer to a higher authority these days, the one that you don't want to mess with."

Wolverine groaned.

"You can't mean.."

"yup, one in the same, why are you lookin for Gambit anyways, you hero types don't seem like the sort who would need his services."

Logan laughed internally at the irony of the statement.

"Just need to get ahold of him or talk to the last person that saw him."

"Well, you can either try and seek an audience with the man himself or go poking around the guild, I can guarantee you though that either option is gunna end in you left dead in an alley somewhere."

"Great, thanks for the info, you've been a big help."

Hammerhead met the sarcastic remark with one of is own.

"Any time Wolverine, I trust you can find your way out?"

"Not fast enough bub."

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Jean Grey was lounging by the pool side; there was scarce opportunity for such relaxing as of late, so she had to take it where she could get it. On top of that the weather hardly provided much chance for her to take such opportunities, Storms morose mood had usually resulted in ample cloud cover over the mansion, this must be one of the few times that her mind was not on Remy. She was slightly aggravated when a tall figure cast a shadow over the rare sun that was shining down on her.

"We need to talk Jean."

_'Maybe if I feign ignorance he'll go away.'_

"About what Scott? Can it wait? I need to take some time for myself the same as everybody else. I've been running myself ragged on Cerbro looking for Remy, I would have gave up along time ago if it wasn't for Ororo, it's next to impossible trying to find him, no matter how often I explain that he doesn't leave a physic signature like everyone else people still don't seem to listen."

"Actually Gambit is who I came to talk to you about, it seems like most of the rest of the team has come around and is willing to give him a chance, and those that haven't have somewhat of an excuse, I'm not buying the reason that you gave, so spill it, what's the deal?"

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Did it not ever occur to you that I can have an opinion of my own, just because my thoughts on the matter don't fit into your perfectly constructed way of thinking doesn't make them any less valid! I'm getting really tired of you trying to make everyone conform to your ideas Scott. I told you why I don't want Gambit back here, if you can't understand my reasoning then that's you fault, not mine!"

"So you're just going to give up on a teammate? You'll let him leave without even giving him a chance!"

"How could I? It's not even about the Massacre Scott! What else is he hiding? Has he given us any reason to trust him? I don't know what he's thinking, ever, he could be planning to murder us all in our sleep and we wouldn't know the difference!"

The realization suddenly dawned on him.

"You're scared."

"Your damn right I'm scared, how would you feel if someone suddenly took away your sight and expected you to walk across a narrow bridge with no rails? It's not so easy when you can't depend on something you've used your entire life."

The silence between them was heated, each staring at the other with intent, neither backing down.

"You couldn't make it without your powers; you use them like a crutch. I love you to death but you're not as strong as I thought you were."

The words hit her like a slap in the face, was the man who she loved actually belittling her right now?

"Sorry I couldn't meet your lofty expectations Scott, I guess that's something I'll have to work on."

Her sarcasm was not lost on him but he failed to see any advantage of carrying on with their argument.

"I need you to look for Warren, he's been gone for two days now and no one knows where he is."

"Fine."

"Fine."

He stalked off, the conversation had not gone as he had expected, the visions that he had of Jean coming to a remorseful realization were shattered, how could she be so stubborn? The more he thought of it the more he realized that it wasn't her opinion that angered him; it was that it conflicted with his own.

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	12. Chapter 12

Ch12:

Remy stepped off of the chopper and surveyed his surroundings. He felt worn down; the past 36hrs without sleep were starting to take their toll as the adrenaline of the hunt began to fade. He wanted nothing more than for once to fall into a dreamless sleep, free from the nightmares that plagued him. He was certain that his complete exhaustion would ensure him that luxury this night. But the commotion that caught his attention would guarantee that such a luxury would not be granted to him on this particular evening.

Explosions rocked the compound as spotlights in the tower stripped across the ground. He could hear spatterings of gunfire and felt the bullets kick up turf, something was off about the scenario, and then it hit him. The bullets weren't directed out toward the perimeter, they were being fired inward on the compound, they were under attack.

_'Out of de fryin' pan an into de fire, c'est la vie'_.

"Gambit! Gambit!"

Draydon was desperately trying to get his attention.

"Don't worry about the gunfire, the situation is under control".

"What de hell is goin on homme?"

"It's no big deal, some of the squints that work in research mishandled a few of the subjects and they got free, let regular security handle it, its none of our concern. Help your team unload the target off the chopper and meet down in sector 2 for debrief."

As his crew unloaded the containment unit that held Creed, Remy could only stand by and watch the horrible scene unfold before him.

They fought, the eight who had escaped fought with everything they had against insurmountable odds. Remy remembered times when he had found himself in similar situations, surrounded by enemies in superior numbers with nothing but his teammates to watch his back, fighting for his life, but more importantly for the lives of those around him. That's what these people were missing he observed, there was no teamwork, no cooperation, they were looking out for each other, the common bond that they shared of being different in a world that wouldn't tolerate it drawing them together to make one last stand, but they didn't fight as a unit.

It was as if it was happening in slow motion, and he desperately wanted to help, a vision of himself running to their aid and fighting the good fight beside them flashed through his head, but as he tracked the gunfire and saw the artillery arriving he knew that any assistance he could provide would be too little, to late.

The shape shifter went first, his power would have been useful if he was trying to sneak out alone, but in open combat such as this he was sorely under matched, a bullet into his spleen caused an eruption of blood to spurt from his mouth as he crumpled to the dirt. He was followed by a telepath of some sort, a girl no more than sixteen took a piece of shrapnel to her throat. She tried in vain to keep the precious liquid from escaping from her body, a bloody hand covering a wound that was fatal. As she went down gasping for air that wouldn't come through a severed windpipe, Remy swore that she looked up at him as the light faded from her eyes, his heart wrenched and he almost vomited.

Her recognized the girl from his third day on the job working perimeter security. The crew that brought her in, his crew didn't know she was a telepath. Before they knew what hit them they had released her and she was running toward the gate. When she was out of range and they recovered one of them radio'd him, he remembered an Australian accent, it was probably Glimmer.

"Hey you, Guard Seven! Stop that subject from escapin' mate!"

Remy turned and saw the girl running for all she was worth with a sheer look of terror in her eyes. He felt her untrained yet powerful telepathy trying to break past his shields, her look of terror turned into one of confusion as she barreled into him and he quickly restrained her.

'Easy petit, you ain' gonna get no where like dis, jus' go back an dey probly let you go after dey done wit you non?"

Even as he spoke the words he knew they were a lie, but after all lying was what he was best at. He heard he screams of betrayal as they dragged her back to the facility, this time equipped with a Genosha collar that they should have had the foresight to place on her in the first place, he doubted that they would underestimate another target again regardless of how harmless they seemed.

She spat curses at him the whole time they dragged her back, she knew what he was, he wondered why she didn't out him right there. One phrase in particular stuck in his head from that incident, and it was circulating in his conscious even now,

"Traitor!"

Over and over the accusation rang in his mind, he could have blocked it out if he tried but he let it overtake him, because as much as he hated the fact it had been proven time and time again in his life that he couldn't hide from the truth. She didn't know that he had probably saved her life for the time being, Remy sensed the sniper move into position, waiting for the kill shot, his senses, which for some reason had become heightened in times of stress lately picked up even the subtle movement that applied pressure on the trigger. He gave her a few more days of life, but judging from the rumors he had heard, she would have been better of dying right there.

Oddly enough Remy recognized the signature of the sniper who had finally ended her life, it was the same one, he did little that day but to delay the inevitable.

_'One more homme, one more dat you be responsible for. How many more it gunna take dyin by yo' hand till you realize dis ain' a game you should be playin?"_

Next was the energy convertor, their heavy hitter, he was shooting some type of focused beam from his hands and was doing a pretty good job of keeping the soldiers who had began to close at bay, the beginning stages of one of his blue lances of light were cut short as he was taken down by one of the guards in the tower with a shot through the back of his head. At least his death was quick.

Seeing this, the rest of the doomed group seemed to loose their desire to fight, their main source of offense was now dead, and they closed their own circle and stood back to back, defeated. They lowered their hands in a sign of surrender and Remy watched a scenario that he had seen to many times before, that he had participated in once a fashion of sorts, play out in front of him.

The lead security guard brought a hand up to halt the advance; he touched his communicator and cocked his head as he was listening to his orders. He looked around at his fellow employees of W&B with a look of concern as he shook his head not knowing what to do. He visually winced as he brought his hand back to his communicator; obviously the voice on the other end had raised a few octaves. With a regretful gesture he raised his rifle and gave the command, there was a moments hesitation as no one wanted to be the first. Then suddenly one cowardly soul who was too afraid to do what was right fired, it was like a cascade and the rest of the guards who had the mutants encircled between them followed suit, bullets streaked through flesh and extinguished the last short lived taste of freedom that they had enjoyed until there was no movement. All those who had participated bowed their heads in shame, Remy could feel that a few sick and twisted individuals had actually enjoyed it, but their emotions were drowned out by the all encompassing self loathing that was felt by the rest, a feeling that was made all the stronger when it was mixed in with his own. He had to clamp his shields down harder than he had in a long time so he wouldn't get lost in it, he knew that if he did he may never find his way back out.

He felt a hand on his shoulder as Draydon stepped to his side. They stood there, together, staring at the carnage in front of them. Remy looked at him and instead of the smug satisfied expression he expected he found something else; sorrow. He looked into the man's defeated eyes and guessed that he was recalling demons of his own into his conscious. Draydon didn't speak of the atrocity of it all, he didn't say that he felt sorry for them, he didn't say that they never had a chance or even how they had already surrendered and it was a mindless slaughter.

"I have a daughter her age..."

He lowered his gaze to the ground and walked back into the facility to debrief the team. Remy tried to shake it off, but for once the unshakable thief couldn't hide from his thoughts, and he felt that a small piece of himself had died with those poor hapless souls who lay slain on the battlefield before him. For the first time in his life, he couldn't find words to hide his pain.

The debrief was quick, no one had a taste for recalling the operation after what they had all just witnessed, unaware of it at the time, the rest of his team had paused to observe the carnage as he had. This group surprised him, the mercenaries he was used to working with were bloodthirsty and without conscious, these seemed almost as if they had hearts. He looked over at Svetlana, all of his energy was focused toward keeping up his shields so that her emotions would not drown him in sorrow, he could only imagine the tragedy of genocide she must have witnessed in her country, she was reliving it now. Fox's reaction was more of regret, he guessed that he had participated in such actions just as Remy had, and just like Remy it haunted him. Reaper and Glimmer, the two that Remy had barely had a chance to speak to didn't hold any personal regret or emotion toward the event, they were just disgusted in general out of principle. Despite the circumstance Remy was finding that he respected these people at the least, perhaps even liked them.

Suddenly Fox slammed his fist down on the table in an act of defiance.

"I will not work for a company that endorses that type of thing, I won't be apart of it. Those security guards worked for our firm, if this is what we're about now I think that I'll seek my employment elsewhere." He shot an accusing stare at Draydon. He wasn't the only one thinking that the head of security gave the order to execute those people.

Every head in the room nodded in silent support, Fox was a voice for the thoughts that they were all thinking. Draydon quickly answered before it got out of hand.

"Your right, I won't work for a company that endorses the slaughter of the helpless either, but what you have to understand is that the order didn't come from anyone in our firm, it came from the head of the facility, Dr. Trask."

Silence permeated throughout the room, it was one thing to question the orders from you own chain of command, but the client was beyond reproach, he didn't answer to any of them. They were all at a loss.

"That is why I will be forwarding my recommendation to the firm that we cancel our contract with Dr. Trask, I don't know how far it will get us but I after I file my report they won't be able to ignore the demand in its entirety. Know this, I will personally meet with each and every one of our employees until I am satisfied that they will never carry out such an order from Trask again."

Empty rhetoric, Remy didn't doubt that the man believed his own words or that he was actually going to do what he said, but it didn't matter. Remy had now added a third objective to this job, and in no specific order he recited them in his head.

Get the mark.

Kill Creed.

Kill Trask...slowly.

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Bishop was doing his usual perimeter checks. After the recent events he was worried, more than usual. His recent assumption that Gambit was the traitor, the one that he had abandoned after onslaught was starting to resurface. He questioned himself, what if this was the catalyst? What if the X-men had turned Gambit into the traitor, it was plausible that he could comeback seeking revenge. The X-men were powerful but Gambit operated in ways that they couldn't counter, except perhaps wolverine. They had never faced an enemy that had Gambits resources and underground connections, he knew mansion security inside and out, he had shown on numerous occasions that no matter what Bishop did he could easily slip past it, then he would flaunt it in his face and laugh at his frustration. What if he came at night when the mansion was asleep and planted charges, with proper planning he could place enough explosives to level the entire place.

But then that would go against everything that he had come to know about the man. He was fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. Too many times had he seen the Cajun charge into battle with his own safety nothing but an afterthought. Bishop had expressed his concern of Remy's careless fighting style, he only answered with a shrug and a grin,

_"I can' die Bish, how am I gunna live ta be de witness den?"._

He never had an answer for him. Maybe that fierce devotion and determination was exactly what would drive him to turn, he gave his all to this team and they took it, then they through it back at him when they were done with him. He was snapped out of his circular thinking by a loud scream that came from the mansion garage.

He covered the ground in-between himself and the noise in little time only to find Scott Summers kneeling on the ground clutching his head to his hands.

"Bishop! It's Jean, something's wrong!."

Bishop had rehearsed every possible scenario that he could have ever thought of, this one among them.

He immediately took off running into the mansion, "Cerebro, locate X-man Jean Grey, security code Gamma/X/Bishop!"

A calm female voice filled the air in the mansion.

"Designate Jean Grey is currently in Cerebro, no foreign entities are present to stand up security measure Gamma/X/Bishop against."

Bishop felt a gut wrenching anxiety at his next question that formulated in his mind and dreaded the possible answer.

"Cerebro, locate X-man Remy Lebeau."

"Location unkown."

He breathed a small sigh of relief but thought it best to double check.

"Cerebro, locate X-man Remy Lebeau, use bio-patterns only."

"Location unkown."

Feeling somewhat relieved now that the current obstacle of who might be in the mansion was hurdled, he quickened his pace down to Cerebro. When he entered the door he found Jean in the same position as Cyclops, the helmet portion of Cerebro laying unceremoniously cast aside.

"Jean what's wrong, what's happening?"

The rest of the X-men who were present at the mansion filtered in through the door, alerted by Cerebro's eerily calm voice that responded to Bishops questioning.

"It's...its Warren, I found him...I think. I couldn't get a good read, there was so much...hate. It was blinding, it was so strong, I think he's in trouble".

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He had waited thousands of years, and now he was so close, closer than ever before. He had finally succeeded in surrounding himself with beings that had proved worth of the title "Servant of Apocalypse". Now that his dream was so close to fruition he began to grow anxious, if not impatient.

"Sinister, how many of the strong have you gathered to my cause?"

"Nearly fifty my lord, some willingly, some had to be convinced using other means of course."

"I care little of the means as long as they serve me loyally."

"The ones who were forcibly converted will be the most loyal, they have little choice."

"Excellent, and the others?"

"They will not dare to betray you, they are aware of the consequences of such actions."

"What of The One? Is he yet within our grasps?"

"Yes my lord, but he still has a purpose yet to serve."

Sinister had his operation down to a science, a science that he had created and perfected. The principle of it was actually quite simple really. Send his unknowing strike team out to capture known mutants that he had locations for, bring them back to the facility, and put them through the proper procedures that would wipe their minds of all desires excluding the one to serve Apocalypse. What was even better is that their were some that willingly joined, if not out of desire to serve then desire to be on the winning side.

For non-mutants this group had proved themselves more than capable. He had began to wonder why he hadn't contracted this type of work before, it was so much less trouble than dealing with the temperaments of his usual employees, who all had personal agendas and attitudes that he had to deal with. It would be a shame when he had to eliminate them all... all but one of course.

If he had one draw back it was the expediency of his operation, it was becoming harder and harder to find the locations of mutants and Xavier was proving to be very resilient. He was extremely resistant to all of his mind control techniques and could not utilize the man until he was broken. But as soon as he could break through those mental barriers and turn Xavier to do his bidding then things should move along at a much more rapid pace. Soon Xavier would be locating mutants for him all across the globe, and the ones that Xavier couldn't take control of and send marching to his compound he would simply send his team out for. The rest would simply have to die or serve as subjects for his experiments.

He could not wait to purge the gene pool of the impurities that it currently held. He only had to break Xavier and to acquire the other ally that Apocalypse demanded, he felt that it was dangerous but if he could be controlled then the world would crumble at their feet.

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His eyes opened to the sight of Svetlana. When he went to the local bar provided by the facility for it's employees he was less than surprised to find that he had company that night. He had contemplated sleep, but had doubted that it would come easily without the aid of alcohol, not after he had seen events that he had desperately hoped were a part of his past.

She was beautiful, long black hair to match her eyes and a figure that you could find in most men's magazines. Her exotic facial features were only outdone by her accent, Remy had always been partial to women with accents.

They were all quite through the first few rounds that night, sharing their misery in silence, soon their individual choices of drink had the desired effect and they began to talk. None of them had much in common with one another, and all were of different temperaments, which is what made their conversation so interesting. Soon Remy's enhanced mutant metabolism started to separate him from his companions as they retired one by one to deal with the tragedy in their own silence, until only himself and Svetlana remained, her's being an endurance that was a result of her Russian heritage.

"You are different from us Gambit, Do not think that it goes unnoticed within the group".

"Always been different Chere, jus' my natural charm eh?"

The words could have been flirtatious, but instead they were tinged with bitterness.

"Do you not ever say what you think, not everything has to be hidden behind words."

He thought about that statement, it came natural to him after doing it so much, it was reflex that he hid his feelings with words, feelings were so hard, but words had always come easy to him.

"What Gambit really be thinkin is dat he don' wanna be alone tonight eh?"

"Good thing that you were honest, or else I would have never known that we were thinking the same thing..."

He had taken an errant step and he knew it, this wasn't one that he could sneak out on in the middle of the night and never cross paths with again. He worked with her, often in close quarters, they could scarce afford for awkwardness to interfere with the mission. As if reading his thoughts she rolled over and looked at him,

"Relax Gambit, it was what it was nothing more, we owe each other nothing."

He was grateful for her understanding, her words alleviated the tension out of the situation.

"Shit! It's already 730, we have a briefing in ten minutes."

They walked into the briefing together five minutes late, no one commented on the fact, these men were used to such occurrences and could have cared less who spent the night with whom, just as long as it didn't effect their work.

Remy froze in his tracks as he saw the picture of their next target on the screen, it was a picture that he recognized and it caused his gut to wrench, in all of her glory Betsy Braddock stood fiercely glaring down at them from the view screen.


	13. Chapter 13

CH 13:

Nobody noticed Remy's abrupt pause upon seeing Betsy's picture on the view screen. It was a still that captured her in the middle of combat, purple exotic hair framing her perfect oriental features and a slight scowl that only added to her allure. She was in her combat uniform, if it could really be called a uniform at all, it much more resembled an ensemble that would be bought at the local S&M shop and left little to the imagination, this is what was capturing the rapt attention of all the males in the room more than anything else. Svetlana was to busy smirking to herself and watching her teammate's reactions to Psylocke's picture to take much notice of Remy.

_'Looks like I'm going to have to keep an eye on these boys during this one, make sure they keep their eyes on the prize and their hands to themselves.'_

Draydon reluctantly pulled his gaze from the view screen as Remy snapped out of his trance and took a seat next to Svetlana and prepared himself for the worst.

"Alright folks, we got a tough one here. I know she doesn't look like much of a fighter in this picture..."

Glimmer interrupted, "The sheila looks like a fighter enough to me mate!"

A few sophomoric laughs filled the room that came from Reaper, Fox and Glimmer, Remy gave a chuckle at the irony of the statement.

"..As I was saying, while this photo graciously accentuates her physical features, it is her mental ones that are going to cause us problems."

Draydon passed around plain manila envelopes to all those present in the room and continued.

"If you open the dossier on the subjects you'll see that the targets name is Betsy Braddock, a.k.a Psylocke. Her powers include strong telepathy that she can harness into a psychic blade of sorts, its effects can be quite devastating if it makes contact with any part of the brain"

Reaper was unimpressed and let Draydon know about it. "Don't see what the big deal is, we've been after psychos before, they ain't never caused us to much trouble".

Fox answered before Draydon had the chance, "Shit you gotta be kidding me Draydon there is no way!"

Remy was the only one in the room who didn't look at him in surprise, he guessed that Fox had gotten to the part of the dossier that he knew would make this mission seem possible.

"She's a damn X-man! There ain't no way we can fight the X-men with just the five of us! This is suicide, even if we can get within a mile of them without them knowing they'd eat our lunch as soon as we engaged!"

This was the reaction that Draydon had dreaded, he knew that the mission was close to impossible but orders were orders and he had never failed to bring a target in, no matter who it was.

"I know this one seems extraordinarily difficult, but fortunately our employer has some how managed to provide us with intelligence that will allow us to circumvent an assault on the X-men."

Remy was desperate, he had to find a way to convince Draydon that it was in all of their best interest to turn this one down, if not he could have his cover blown, or worse they could actually succeed and Remy would have the death of an X-man on his conscious. He was familiar with Betsy, her habits, her fighting style, her favorite hang outs, he was certain that he could pull this mission off by himself if he needed to, even easier if he had the help of his team, but that was besides the point, he wanted nothing to do with the X-men, no contact at all, revenge included.

"Even if we get dis femme alone, de X-men gunna know as soon as we attack her, she gunna alert dem telepathically."

The all eyed him suspiciously, none of them knew much about Gambit, in fact no one but Draydon even knew his "real" name. This particular fact had been weighing more and more heavily on their minds as of late, Gambit always seemed to have the answers, he was always in the right place at the right time, it made them all wary of the man. Something about him made them like the mysterious operative, he drew them in whenever he spoke and put them at ease with simple gestures, yet despite this he had done nothing that would make them trust him. It was an odd parity, to like someone but not trust them completely; somehow he managed to put off that vibe.

"What makes you say that Gambit?"

"Don't t'ink dis be de first job Gambit had fightin' mutants do you homme?"

"No I suppose not, still that doesn't negate the fact that we still have to capture this target. The strike will have to be planned to perfection, no room for error on this one guys, it will have to be quick and efficient, once neutralized, the target will have to kept unconscious until we can get her back into the facility where her powers will be rendered insignificant by the suppression field."

A sudden wave of confusion washed over Remy and pressed any other thoughts he was having to the side.

"Supression field? Der be a supression field in de facility?"

"Of course, you don't think that Trask would run this facility with mutant prisoners without having something in place to neutralize their powers do you?"

"Non, guess not."

_'Merde, how de hell c'n I use m' powers if der be a supression field on, dis jus' don' make no sense.'_

"Trask has provided us with devices that will render you all invisible to any telepathic detection; the devices only have a life of 10 minutes so we'll have a short window that we can operate in. You'll split into two teams, Remy and fox will be on the first team, Glimmer, Reaper and Svetlana will be on the second team. You'll go in ten minutes apart, that way if the first team is unable to locate and neutralize the target before thier devices quit working then the second team can come in and finish the job while the first retreats out of range. Were going to have to plan this one out meticulously, Fox you stay behind with me and we'll go over the details, the rest of you go back and take some time off while you study the file. And I do mean study it, you need to know this one inside and out, we'll reconvene in three days and go over the final plan that me and Fox come up with. If there are no further questions you all are dismissed. Oh, and I need two volunteers for tomorrow for a side mission, this one has a bonus attached and there is no travel involved."

Reaper and Glimmer jumped on it before the words even registered with any one else in the room, no matter how honorable, they were still mercenaries and at the word bonus they instinctively spoke up.

"Count me in."

"Me too Mate, a bonus sounds bloody alright."

Draydon hid the smile that was forming at his lips, he found their quickness to volunteer amusing.

"O.k. then, you are all dismissed, I'll see you other two tomorrow at noon."

Remy walked out of the room in a daze, he didn't even notice the inviting look that Svetlana gave him over her shoulder as she walked away with a purposeful sway in her hips. She was very disappointed when he didn't respond,

_'And I was even wearing my leather pants today'_ she thought.

But Remy was a million miles away, or more approximately 2500 miles away, in Westchester New York with the X-men, what the hell was he going to do? The possibilities bounced around his mind so furiously he had trouble analyzing even one of them.

_'Do I tell dem? If I do den dey gunna know what I been up to, no doubt dey gunna come for me if dey fin' dat out, probly put me through another trial if dey c'n find me. Do I go through wit de mission? Don' owe dem nothin', never had much love for Betsy anyways, she was at de trial jus' like de res' of dem, wouldn't be too bad to get some payback. Non, don' wan' dat, I deserved what I got an she don' need to pay for doin what was right. I need to finish dis job an get de hell out of here, den mebbe slip an anonymous message to de X-men bout Betsy, dat should be enough to keep her outa trouble.'_

Remy's window of opportunity had just gotten a lot smaller, three days, it was time to get to work.

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"He chooses the right path, this will keep The First from attaining the ally he desires."

: "I do not believe it will, The First will find away to free him, he is too determined about it. The One will have to be prepared to face them both."

"Can he? He is powerful but that will test even his limits."

: "This is true, but he will have help."

"Again you speak of this help, you know that he will not accept it in any form, you have ensured that through your manipulations of his life."

: "As I have said, and as you know, it was necessary to orchestrate his life in order to make him strong, he must believe it to be fact that when all around him has fallen and the fate of existence rests on his shoulders that he can rely on no other but himself."

"Another observer would consider your actions cruel; did it have to be to the extent that you pushed it? Was all of the pain necessary, what if it was too much and when the time comes he no longer has the desire to live, what if he ceases to care?"

: "As you have pointed out, my actions have made him the way he is, that includes his determination, he will not surrender because he is too used to survival, it is all he knows."

"I sometimes wonder who the real threat to this reality is."

: "You have been watching and learning beside me since the beginning, yet now you choose to speak up, you grow nervous as the time approaches. It is understandable, I too am worried about the outcome, but the course of action that we have taken gives this reality the best chance for survival."

"I hope you are right, thousands of years will be wasted if you are not."

: "More than that, the rest of the realities that are attached to this one will continue to struggle as they have for thousands of years against The First, this outcome will show the watchers of those worlds that our path is the correct path to freedom for these realities."

"You shroud your manipulation in nobility, I think that you have become so enamored with what you have created in The One that you want this success as much for him as you do for the over all good it will accomplish."

"You assume correctly."

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"One thing at time people!"

This was starting to get out of hand, of course lately all of these meetings were starting to get out of hand. Scott could feel the strangle hold of authority that he used to have slowly loosing it's grip. He realized how much Xavier had meant to him, to them all. It was always easier when Xavier was around to legitimize his own authority as leader of the team, but now that he was gone it was getting harder and harder to control the group.

When had they given up hope? At first they had searched for him frantically, exhausting every lead and every resource that they had at their disposal, they had practically threatened Fury with a direct attack on SHIELD for information. But in the end they were back where they started, with no sign or hope of finding Xavier. Then they had decided to focus their energy on finding Remy, it was after all what Xavier would have wanted, at least Scott believed so. Xavier had admitted to Scott during one of their talks that he held a great deal of fondness for Remy, fondness laced with Pity. Scott didn't know what their was to pity upon hearing the news from his mentor, it seemed to him that Remy had it all, charm, good looks, and a bank account that seemed endless. When the rest were struggling by on their meager stipend that was provided by the professor, only Warren and Remy seemed to never want for anything.

He understood immediately why Xavier liked Remy; it was because Xavier loved a mystery. He was the one person on the team and one of a few on the planet that Xavier couldn't spend a few moments with and know practically everything their was to know about them. Jean was capable of keeping the professor from reading her errant surface thoughts but never would and Betsy hardly felt like putting forth the effort to keep secrets, but Xavier had told him that Remy was the complete opposite.

"Scott, do you remember when you led an assault on Sinister's base in St. Louis?"

"Yup, that one almost ended badly, that was actually one of the few times that Gambit had displayed some show of teamwork instead of his usual cryptic actions behind the scenes that were meant to benefit without anyone noticing."

"Yes, well then you also remember that he was severely injured during the mission, more so than any of you realized. Remy was as close to death after that encounter without actually dying than any of my X-men have ever come."

"But I don't understand, he seemed fine after he got out of the med lab. He was back to staying out all night and skipping training sessions with in a week."

"That is another matter in its entirety, the point is that while Remy was in the lab, proverbially knocking on deaths door, he spent every single ounce of energy that he had on keeping his mental shields intact. He should have been focusing on just staying alive, but instead he was worried about keeping his secrets to himself. That is why I pity him Scott, to have spent all this time with us and to still not trust that we would not accept him if we found out about his past. To not trust me, or at least trust that I would not invade his mind when he didn't wish me to do so, it is very sad. But he hides it all so well, even I sometimes do not notice when he deflects questions about himself because he does it so well."

Scott focused on that one statement in particular. It seems that Remy was right not to trust them with his secrets, he was right, they didn't accept him.

He had scarcely heard the arguments that had been going on during his mental lapse.

_'This is not like me, I'm always aware of what's going on with my team, I must be getting tired.'_

His resolution was firm, he just had to make the rest of his team fall in line behind him. Few of the decisions that he made lately had yet to bear any fruit, he was worried that he was loosing his credibility within the group. Jeans gentle telepathic assurance gave him a small measure of comfort that at least she was still behind him, despite the difference that they have had lately. They had never had such a definitive split of opinion before as the one concerning Gambit, and a small part of him was glad they did. She seemed to take it in-stride well and saw it only as that, difference of opinion. While he at first saw it as some sort of betrayal she only thought it to be two people who didn't see eye to eye on that one subject, he realized that she had every right to disagree, he only wished that he hadn't reacted the way he did.

"Listen!"

The conflicting voices that had been clashing in the air quieted.

"We will not leave another X-man behind, not now, not ever!"

He was surprised with the force and determination behind his own words, words that were spoken as much for Remy as they were for Angel.

"If one of our team is in danger then we will treat it as if we were all in danger. I don't care who thinks what. Yes he could be able to handle this on his own, yes he may just need to blow off some steam and yes he may just need some time to himself, but until we determine exactly which on of those options to be correct we are going to look for him. Jean has informed me that since she now knows what to expect she can shield herself from whatever emotions Warren is emitting and track him with Cerebro. We'll send a small team to go find him to determine what it is that's going on. Logan, you'll go incase we need to track him on the ground, Storm, you will go as well incase we need to pursue him through the air and Betsy will go incase he needs someone to talk him out of whatever it is he's involved in right now. Bobby, I'll send you as well, he may just need a friend right now. You have your orders people, let's make it happen."

He had left no room for argument and he was now certain that he still held the command of his team. They filed out of the room and Logan of all people gave him a nod that showed some semblance of respect before he too departed.

"You did well Scott, you shouldn't doubt yourself, Xavier wasn't the only thread holding this team together, through all these years your hand has been just as steady."

Her support meant the world to him, as they embraced he couldn't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place.

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Angel touched down just south of Las Vegas in a town so rundown that he didn't even bother to look at the name. While his metal wings proved to be lethal weapons they did little to aid him with speed of flight. He had excellent maneuverability in combat but he couldn't come close to the supersonic speeds that many fliers were capable of achieving. He had been going for three days straight and exhaustion was close to overtaking him, finally his weariness overtook his desire to continue to the strange force that was calling him and he stopped to rest for the night. Tomorrow he would make the last leg of his journey and find out what exactly had brought him two and a half thousand miles across the country.

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He moved in the shadows as if he was one of them, it was almost as if he could command them to rise and fall, grow and retreat upon his command. But in reality it was just a skill that had been mastered through countless hours of training and application. He scarcely even had to think about it anymore, it was more instinct now than anything. This was now a necessity, he could hardly afford to waste any mental effort on such a basic action such as staying hidden from sight, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to be discovered, not so deep in the facility, he doubted that he could fight his way out from so far in, there were just too many highly trained guards between him and freedom, he would be certain to become a prisoner in the place he was once employed.

He stretched out his kinesthetic field; he was almost frightened to do so. After he got back from Antarctica he had hardly used his powers for a while, partly because he had no reason to and partly because he didn't want to be reminded of who he once was, and who he could never be again. A life taken from him that he had yearned for, but never expressed to anyone or even himself what it had meant to him. Since he had been using his powers more and more lately they were different each time, stronger. The charges had flown from his gloved hands more easily; he put almost no effort at all into them anymore. His empathy was so strong he thought that he could almost hear thoughts that accompanied the emotions he was feeling from others. And his spatial awareness was sharper with far more range. The limits that he used to push it too that had once provided him with sluggish recognition of moving objects on its fringes now held a clarity that was akin to if they were right in front of him. This time was no different, despite the fact that the entire place was under a suppression field that should have negated his powers, a fact that still confounded him.

He was near the clean room, 4 levels down, one more level and he would be in the containment area where prisoners were kept. This area was well lit but that could easily be changed, the only trick was to do it without it seeming suspicious. He had decided that he would get the file that he was contracted to steal first, it was a list of the prisoners being held here. He felt that would score a moral victory that would tip the balance of his soul more toward the side of righteousness if he could get that list into the hands of someone who could put it to good use, maybe even the X-men through an anonymous courier. Jake was always good at that type of thing, maybe he would do him a favor and give him the job, it would be nice and easy with good pay, he felt that he owed him that much.

He could feel two techs working in the clean room, maintaining the computer systems that kept the facility running, they were being guarded on the outside by two more regular security personnel, he didn't recognize them, they weren't from his firm. Three cameras surveyed the area and relayed the images back to the security center, two moving, one that was stationary. Usually he couldn't pick up stationary objects but his powers were working in overdrive for some reason and he could pick up the electrical currents that were running through it.

He always thought it was cheating when he used his powers on the job, he told himself that so that he would learn not to rely on them, that and it just made things more challenging. But this was a job that he didn't need to make anymore difficult than it already was.

The plan was simple, his favorite kind. The implementation is what would prove to be difficult. The hardest part was already over, he had infiltrated the company and gotten on the inside, now he just had to finish it off. He ran through the mental checklist of what he would do in his head.

_'Hit de detonator, when de explosion go off in de compound dey gunna lock de place down an everybody gotta ta get to a safe room. Dat should take care of de security guards, dey gunna go check out de disturbance like de rest of em, de techs should run outta der like jack rabbits lookin for cover. Hit de second detonator to kill de power and short out de cameras b'fore de back-up power come on and trigger de flood lights. Once de computers come back on line den I download de file dat I came fo and slip down to de next level ta fin' Creed, shoul' be able ta pull his location off de mainframe if I got de time. Hit de third detonator, keep em distracted, don' want no one runnin' down here to quick an findin' me. Once I find Creed...'_

His hand slipped down to his belt that held a razor sharp 10' long combat knife.

_'...Gunna get messy homme but ain't no one never said dis line o'work was pretty'_

He watched the guards, oblivious to his presence, he watched the clean room techs engrossed in their work and also none the wiser. He mentally counted down as he fingered the switch that would blow the first charge.

_'One..'_

He armed the detonator, the green light switching to red, an ominous precursor of the events to come.

_'Two..'_

Cover up, switch exposed.

_'Three...'_

He flipped the switch and flinched at the expected blast, a blast that didn't come. Remy's heart skipped a beat; he recalled everything he did when planting the explosives, where did he make the mistake? Before he even got past the first step in his recollection an explosion that was so forceful the lights flickered and dust mixed with plaster rained down from the ceiling.

Immediately the lab techs left the room and enacted the security code to lock the door behind them, they were escorted out by the two security guards and the room area was soon vacant of everyone but himself.

He hit the second switch and this time there was no delay, the lights went dim and he slapped his hand against the electrical feed that ran to the cameras. Before he even realized it a charge was running through the power lines and he had to draw some of it back, he figured the adrenaline had caused him to put a little more into it than he had meant to. Three successive pops alerted him that the video feed was shorted out and he made his way over to the clean room door, it was time to get to work.


	14. Chapter 14

CH 14:

A slim pale blue figure touched down 800 yards from the perimeter of a well guarded compound. The wary mutant was crouched in the bushes on the side of the road that led to the front gate, and to the answers he was seeking. He had circled the outlying compound and scouted it thoroughly. From what he could tell there wasn't much to it except a perimeter that housed some trailers for the workers and a few guard towers, he knew that the real operation laid within the mountain. He didn't know what was calling him, but he knew where it was, it was inside that mountain and he had to get to it at all costs.

He had long since conceded that he was no Logan when it came to stealth moving through the woods, that was Logan's element, not his. While he didn't posses the skill of a feral predator, he was far from being heavy footed; his time with the X-men had provided him numerous opportunities to train for such a circumstance. At the time he had hardly felt it worth his trouble, someone who could command the air had little use for stealth on the ground but Cyclops had insisted, he was thankful for that insistence now as he attempted to move closer to the gate without making noise.

He focused his keen vision down the road and recalled what he had memorized from his aerial recon. There were guards, the place was swarming with security, there was no way that he could get in undetected with a frontal assault, in fact there was no way he could get in undetected at all. It was hopeless, there was no way to get in without alerting the entire compound of his presence, he knew that he should call for backup, but the force that was pulling him in outweighed his reason and he found himself carefully moving toward the gate. He planned on getting as close as his cover would allow before he took to the air and made a desperate dash toward the entrance to the underground mountain facility.

After 30 minutes of painstakingly inching his way closer and closer he begain to gain confidence, he was now a mere 400 yrds away from the perimiter of the compound and a little less than a mile from the enterance to the facility, he knew he could cover that distance in the air in moments.

_'Just a little farther and I can make a break for it.'_

If his ears would have been half as keen as his eyes he would have noticed that he was not alone. In another 100yrds he would be flanked by two highly trained operatives on each side, with one purpose, to capture him at all costs.

If he had been Logan he might have heard their breathing, he might have heard the tell tale sound of a rifle being loaded with a tranquilizer dart, he might have smelled them, or he might have picked up on the fact that the wildlife was uncharacteristically quiet. But he wasn't Logan and the only thing he heard was a large truck coming down the road behind him, he quickly dove deeper into cover to be safe,

_'So close, I can't risk getting caught now, I have to find out what this is'._

After the truck had passed and he was satisfied that he could continue, the blinding hatred that had been driving him toward his goal and plagued his every thought forced him down the road through the foliage that he believed was providing him with adequate cover.

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Glimmer and Reaper each watched their prey move painstakingly slow down the road into the carefully laid trap that they had constructed. The bonus for this job was fat considering the amount of preparation and the risks the detail ensued, they would have easily jumped on the chance for half the pay.

If they hadn't know he was coming they realized they would have never seen him, his pale blue skin providing perfect cover as he stealthily moved through the desert oasis that surrounded the compound. He was moving so slowly and meticulously that occasionally they lost sight of him, but the glint of sunlight off his metal wings was a dead give away to his location, if he would have thought to camouflage them somehow he might have been able to slip by them, he was good, but not experienced.

Unfortunately for Angel this was the exact type of operation that these two individuals excelled at. The only one who was more accurate with a rifle was Svetlana, but at this distance it hardly mattered, they could each make a 100yrd shot with their eyes closed. They held no pity for their target, that was for after the job, professionalism did not allow for such weaknesses. As it were, they anticipated the action, poised to strike and prove to themselves that they were deadly adversaries, as they had time and time again.

Both men watched and waited as the blue skinned target drew closer to his end, when he was less than 25 yrds down the road from the point where they would spring their trap they raised their rifles and waited.

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"Uh, Doris?"

A middle aged woman who looked bored with life raised her head to regard Bobby Drake and his companions, she could immediately tell that they weren't from around here.

_'Great, tourists lost on their way to Vegas, just my lucky day, at least this one is good looking'._

"Ya thats my name, its gunna take more than reading skills to get you a room though honey."

Bobby was confused at her assumption, before he could press on Logan cut him off.

"Look Darlin, were lookin for a feller who came through this way, had blue skin and a snobby attitude."

_'Great, must have been one of the blue man group or something.'_

"A guy came in last night, it was dark though and rainin buckets, didn't get a good look at him, didn't care too. Stayed in room 17, out the door and too the right, that's about all I can tell you."

"Great, thanks fer the help."

Logan and Bobby walked out the door and signaled to Storm and Betsy, they had decided it best for the two wait outside, their exotic appearance may not have went over so well in the smal rural community. As the group met Bobby explained where Warren might have stayed and they made thier way over to room 17, when they arrived Betsy reached down for the handle.

"Its locked."

The familiar sound of Wolverine extending his claws let them know that it wouldn't be locked for long.

"Luckily, I brought the key."

Before he could slice the lock Storm stayed his hand.

"Logan, we did not come here to destroy thier property, I believe I have a better way."

Storm bulled out a small leather pouch and extracted two silver tools from within its contents. Logan gave her an appraising look.

"They were a gift, from Remy."

Even after all this time, despite the support that her teammates had started to show and the reunion that she hoped was soon to come, his name still caught in her throat. She was a master of her own emotions, and had managed to keep her visible anger in check lately. She had stopped going out of her way to make her displeasure known, she stopped making threatening overtures accompanied with glaring gestures, the others, especially Rogue who she had been the coldest toward took this as a sign of forgiveness. However, she was far from over the incident, those who were responsible for the betrayal would reconcile with her soon enough. As far as she was concerned few of them, most of all Rogue, deserved to have Remy in their lives, and when the time was right she would let her thoughts on the subject be known. The X-men may gain Remy's forgiveness easily, he was always one to live and let live, but they would not gain hers with frivolous gestures of half hearted and insincere apologies, they would have to earn it.

She inserted the torque wrench and pick into the lock and in little time had aligned the tumblers, a loud click informed them that the lock was open. Storm gave a look of satisfaction to her companions, seeming rather pleased with herself.

"It seems that some skills stay with you for life." she remarked

Logan grunted at her.

"Gumbo would have been quicker".

He smiled when his good natured jab had taken the wind from her sails as he stepped through the door and began to survey the room. He never understood her affinity for the Cajun. Logan like him well enough, he was never straight forward enough for his taste but the way he pushed scooters buttons was a plus in his book. He was the only one on the team who could pace him in a night of raising hell. After the tough missions, when they lost more than they were willing and each member of the team carried that little voice of regret that said they could have done more, they all retired to their rooms, taking comfort in their own solitude or in each other. Not Logan, and not Remy, men like them couldn't be left alone with their own thoughts for long or it would eat away at them, they had seen and caused too much of the pain that they were trying to escape from. It was an unspoken agreement between the two cemented in long nights of drinking and self deprecation. When ever there had been one of those missions, Logan and Remy slipped off into the night to drown away the memories in whatever they could find, booze was most often their drug of choice, but occasionally adrenaline fueled by the violence of a bar fight was an apt substitute. Logan knew why he did it, but he could only guess at the Cajuns reasons, he doubted he would ever know half of the forces that drove the man to do the things he did. At least he had forgotten most of his crimes, Remy didn't have that luxury, and from the way the man drank, and fought with reckless abandon as if he had nothing to loose, he didn't envy the man.

"Yup, he's been here alright, we just missed him, maybe by a couple of hours at the most, didn't stay long neither, maybe five hours total, where ever he's headed he wanted to get there in a hurry."

"I can't reach him telepathically, he has shut me out."

Her voice was downtrodden at the statement, Betsy never thought that Warren would shut her out like this; she believed that they were closer. She was often jealous of the connection that Scott and Jean had, Warren had teased her on more than one occasion that the only reason she was with him was to try and outduel those two. He didn't know it but those words had stuck with her and she began to wonder if there was some truth to them.

Storm touched her communicator button and spoke into the air,

"Jean, can you give us a location on Warren?"

A voice hindered by static came through from the other end,

"Not exactly, he is a couple hours north of you, I can't tell you where, there is some interference that I can't get through."

"Very well Jean, thank you."

"It looks as if our journey will take us north; I suggest drive back to where we hid the Blackbird and proceed North."

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"The one known as Angel will prove the downfall of this reality! His foolishness brings The First's quarry to Sinisters doorstep!"

: "Yes this is unfortunate, but he cannot resist the call, it is not his fault. Besides, The First and Sinister have had their eye on Braddock since the inception of their plan, this only speeds the course to a final result that much quicker."

"Perhaps they will not know to look for her so close, they had originally planned on taking her near her home".

: "A plan that would have failed no doubt, The One was the only person of the group capable of executing that plan and he never seriously gave much thought to going along with it. No, they will sense her presence, or more accurately the presence she carries within her, it is unavoidable."

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Remy stood in front of the keypad that guarded the clean room and produced the necessary equipment that would allow him to break the code and gain access.

_'Dieu, dis would have been easier if dey had at least one good lookin femme workin in here'._

A smile crept across his face at the thought of taking advantage of the opportunity that never presented itself.

_'Coulda at least extracted dat info from her, an had fun doin it too.'_

His small portable computer began scanning numbers into the keypad; the secondary signal coming from it jammed the alarm that would have been triggered when a wrong code was entered. Remy had paid hefty sum to get his hands on this, but he never went into a job without the best, and it had already paid for itself ten times over.

The last digit locked into place and the door slid open, he quickly entered replacing his equipment while extracting another piece that would allow him to download the files he came for. He had already programmed it to crack the system and locate the specified file that he needed, alls he had to do was plug it in and wait.

He surveyed the room, he didn't have the time he wanted to take full account of everything there, but he guessed the technology in here could have given Cerebro a run for its money.

_'Dis place make NASA look like Bes' Buy'_

He located a port and plugged in his console, within seconds a light flashed indicating that the search was done and the file was downloaded. He had allocated at least five minutes for this portion of the job, it struck him as quite odd that it was accomplished so quickly. It was easy, almost too easy for such a highly guarded facility with such advanced technology.

_'Gunna have to send my amis at de guild a t'ank you f'r supplyin me with such good equipment I guess'._

Four minutes had passed since the last explosion, Remy checked his watch, he still had another four to go before he was scheduled to set off the next one, he decided that he would wait and take advantage of the extra time he had been afforded,

_'Pere always said don' put all ya gators in one swamp eh?'_

When he left he made sure to re-arm the door before he made his way down to the next level, a quick sweep from his senses assured him that no one was in-between him and his objective as he took the stairs down to sector five. The file that he had lifted was burning a hole in his pocket and it was all he could do not to stop everything he was doing to see who was on that list, but the professional in him drove him onward toward his goal.

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This was as far as he was walking, it was time to take to the air and make his move. Warren stood from his crouch and prepared to take flight toward his destiny. As he spread his wings and crouched in preparation for a momentum gaining leap he heard the click of a gun that sent a sleep inducing dart barreling toward him. He turned in time to deflect it with one of his wings, the loud metal clang was audible for a wide perimeter around him and both Glimmer and Reaper knew that the shot didn't hit its mark. Warren spread his deadly fletchings looking for the perpetrator, his enhanced vision picked up a well concealed Glimmer who was laid prone in the cover of the brush 100 yards away.

Warren took to the air in order to gain a more advantageous angle to deliver the strike from his deadly wings that would eliminate this threat, as he pulled his wings back to shoot his metal arrows he felt a sharp pain in-between his shoulder blades, he suddenly lost his stamina and forgot about the task at hand. He found himself falling back down toward the ground and landed with a thud. He looked up in time to see the second assailant, the one that he knew he should have accounted for but didn't. His anger that he felt over someone daring to attack him blinded him to sensible tactics and he had paid the price, the man got close enough for Warren to barely make out a blurry face, before the scene around him faded to black.

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He was at the end of a long hallway lined with metal doors that provided no openings to view the dungeons that were housed within. It was illuminated by one single light that hung from the ceiling half way down the hall, he had never been on death row but this is what he would imagine it to look like. When he saw the metal cart that held various instruments of torture parked outside one of the doors he suddenly felt a great deal of pity for the individuals that were held prisoner here.

The cart was by the first door of many that lined the hall; he walked over to it and examined its contents, a sickening spark of recognition flared within his memory.

_'Non, dis ain' possible'._

Suddenly he was lost, lost in memories that were to terrible to replay and walk away unshaken. He was strapped to a metal table, glowing eyes boring menacingly into his soul, eyes that could have been a mirror reflection of his own if it weren't for the lifelessness and cruelty that they held.

Images of light glinting off metal tools filtered through his consciousness, metal tools that had been twisted and perverted to cause pain that they were never intended too. He recalled agonizing screams, screams that he realized were his own, he remembered his useless plea's for mercy,

_'Don', don', please don', you don' have to do this'_

The cold steel bit into his flesh and began revealing the contents of his insides, he was unconsciously shuttering at the memory.

_'Fuck! At leas' sedate me, gimme sometin', anytin', kill me instead, jus'don' do dis'!._

_'Why Lebeau, if I sedate you how will you ever learn your lesson?'_

The vibrating alarm of his watch brought him back to reality and saved him from recollections too painful to recall, for the moment.

_'Fuck!'_

He quickly grabbed the detonation box from his coat and flipped the next switch, in his rush he didn't think to prepare himself for the blast that nearly took him from his feet. He stumbled but managed to catch himself with a hand on the cart, a scalpel gave him a superficial cut on the palm of his hand, but it was enough to draw blood. The realization that instruments that had caused him so much pain in the past had pierced his skin again was not lost on him. He felt his once firm resolution began to slip.

_'Dis gotta be Sinister's doin, got his mark all over it'_

He suddenly found himself with a choice to make, he was certain that he could leave now, he already had the file, his end of the contract was filled and he only had to deliver. The thought of falling subject to Sinister's designs again paralyzed him with fear, if there was one thing in this world that could unnerve him it was the thought of being under Sinister's contol again. It was almost enough to make him turn and run at that very moment, and he probably would have if it weren't for the guilt that would follow him and plague his every step until his miserable life ended. While Sinister had an undeniable hold on him his guilt was the one thing more powerful than the fear he caused, the guilt that Sinister was partly responsible for, since their separation it had driven his every action. Every thing good that he had done since then he accredited it to his own need for redemption. He wouldn't wish his own fate upon anyone, so he was resolved to ensure that it didn't happen.

He couldn't free them all; he knew that, they would only wind up dead like the others. He could however escape with the list and get it to the X-men or maybe the Avengers, someone who would rally behind the banner of protecting the innocent and come to these peoples aid. But first he had to strike a blow at Sinister, and there was only one way that he knew to do that right now. He couldn't directly get to Sinister, he never could, the man was like a snake, as soon as you thought you had him pinned down he was flexible enough to deliver a deadly strike then slither back into whatever hole he had crawled out of. But Creed was here, and he was helpless, at least he could ensure that the psychotic monster never aided Sinister in the completion of another atrocity ever again.

He pulled out his PDA that he had downloaded the file onto - alphabetical order - he scrolled down long enough to see the name...Creed; Cell 132, last one on the block. He proceeded the only way he knew how, one foot in front of the other. The explosion had jarred a few of the cell doors open, he did his best not to look in them, he had already relived enough horrors today and there was nothing that he could do for these people right now. He quickened his steps until he broke into a run toward the end of the hall, his footsteps not registering a sound.

He stopped in front of Creeds cell, he didn't know what to expect when he opened the door and he paused, two conflicting voices were arguing within his head.

_'Ya gotta do dis homme, dis be de only way, de proffesor done tried to help him once and look where dat gotcha.'_

_'X-Men don' kill Lebeau, 'specially not de helpless when dey held prisoner.'_

The darker voice provided the more logical reasoning and had the last thought.

_**'You ain' a X-Man no more...'**_

His hands were shaking - his hands never shook. These were not the hands of a cold blooded killer; they were not the hands of an assassin. They were the hands of someone who fought for the helpless, not killed them. But he wouldn't listen to his own thoughts of doubt; he kicked the door open and saw his Target. Strapped to an operating table and shaved of most of the mane that usually covered his torso Creed lay prone and vulnerable...and he was looking right at him. He tried to growl at Remy but it came out as inaudible, he only managed to scowl at him. Before Remy could lose his determination he walked over to Creed and drew his knife.

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He had no idea how long he had been locked in that cell. He knew that he was hungry, not his usual hunger for the blood that accompanied raw meat, not his usual hunger for animalistic savagery and the infliction of pain. He actually wanted food, sustenance, anything to quell the tightening of his stomach. The IV's that he had been getting were just enough to keep him alive, nothing more. He knew by this that he was in trouble, he had been captured like this in the past, but usually his captors had wanted to keep him strong so they could use him. Hell he didn't mind, the jobs were usually fun anyways, and he had the added benefit of including his own sick twisted aspect to them. But the fact that they were keeping him weak, and letting him weaken by the moment told him that they had no use for him, and they would let him perish.

He heard footsteps outside his door and knew that they were coming for him again, more torture, and more tests. Usually they were silent, but the last time they had promised him he would soon serve a new master. Even if he had believed them, which he didn't, Creed served no master except his own desires. When the door opened and he saw the only other man that he hated as much as Wolverine, his fatigue combined with complete shock almost caused him to faint. He didn't know how, the memory of it was hazy but somehow he felt that Lebeau was directly responsible for his current situation. He couldn't stand to be rescued by Lebeau, almost anyone but him; he would rather Satan himself to come through that door to rescue him. He immediately resolved himself to killing Lebeau as soon as he had gotten him clear of wherever this place was that held him. He instinctively growled at the man, but he was weaker than he thought because it came out more as a whisper, he was greatly annoyed that he couldn't express his distain.

He saw Remy walk over to the table that restrained him and draw out an impressive combat knife, he thought it was strange, his hazy recollections of Gambit never showed him a memory of a knife.

'_At least he came prepared'._

_'Thats right kid, cut me loose and get me the fuck outta here so I can finish the business I shoulda done in the tunnels, you were always weak'._

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Remy saw a sheer look of confusion on Sabertooth's face as he jammed 10 inches of cold steel deep into his brain, a look that reciprocated on his own soon after.

_'What de hell did he expect, a hug?'_

Remembering past encounters with Creed, encounters where he had recovered from the impossible, and even recovered from a similar wound that Logan had once inflicted he knew that his job wasn't done, it couldn't be this neat. Even in death Creed had to force Remy to do something he thought vial and beneath him, but he did it anyways. He sent a charge through the knife protruding from Creeds head, small enough to keep from making too much noise, but strong enough to separate the forces that held its molecules together. Letting go he ducked beneath the table as the knife exploded and what was left of Creeds brain matter was sprayed against the walls of the cell.

He stood over his lifeless body, staring at the spot where his skull once laid, now it was just a bloody stump, he was rightfully confident that he had inflicted a wound that would not regenerate. He would have charged the entire table that Creed laid on to make sure, but besides being unnecessary he didn't have the desire to cause any excess noise. One last thought crossed his mind as he was leaving the cell,

_'Wonder what Logan woul' t'ink bout dis?'_

Remy closed the door behind him; no use in anyone discovering his actions before they needed to, hopefully by Creed's body was discovered he would be long gone. He checked his watch; he was ahead of schedule again, his adrenaline causing him to move through his actions quicker than anticipated. He strolled down the hallway stretching out his kinesthetic field to check for any unwanted presences when he picked up a signal that he knew all to well. He slowly turned to his right and pushed open a door that was already ajar, only to find a barely recognizable, but recognizable none the less, Charles Xavier.


	15. Chapter 15

Ch15:

Wolverine surveyed the ground and reconstructed the battle that had taken place step by step. The signs of struggle left behind were still fresh, time had not yet had a chance to erase the evidence that nature left for him. The rest of the group watched him in anticipation, this was his element and this is what he could do better than anyone, an invaluable asset to the team. They had learned long ago to rely on Wolverine's senses when there own had failed the, or when their own had deceived them, it was a struggle at first but eventually they came to accept the truth of his instincts over their own perceptions.

He turned and regarded them with a Grim expression, he was all business when he delivered the news.

"He was here, crawled along this road to this point, two guys jumped him, looks like he saw one comin and got in the air before the other one took him down." He held up the broken end of a tranquilizer dart,

"Took one of these, probably in the back where he couldn't see it comin, I'm guessin he's inside that compound somewhere now".

"Are you certain Logan?"

He only looked at her; he didn't need to answer with words.

"Then we should call the rest of the X-Men and wait until backup arrives."

The rest of the team seemed to agree with this assessment. Bobby usually always went along with whoever the authority figure was in these situations. Betsy was a little more wary but realized that it was probably her best chance at seeing Warren again, Wolverine however looked hesitant.

"Is there something more Logan?"

_'Shit, might as well tell em now'_

"Ya, smelled someone else too, not as strong, one of the others must have carried his scent along with em. I ain't even sure if he's still around, but the Cajun has been here."

Stunned silence, no one knew how to take the news, but they all knew the implications that it carried. Ororo was the first to question him, wanting to determine whether he was in danger or posing a possible threat, she was very worried if it was the latter. She was certain that her brother would never harm her, but of the others she wasn't so sure. They had all seen what Remy was capable of, psychically he was invisible, physically he could move without a sound, he was Logan's equal in hand to hand combat but didn't need to get that close unless he wanted to. She knew she could talk him out of a fight, but only if she could find him before he attacked, a possibility that didn't seem to promising.

"Remy? Here? Is he hurt, can you tell?"

_'Hmpf, ya right, kids got so many lifes he makes a damn cat look short lived.'_

"Don't know, didn't smell any blood just his usual scent, musta been hangin round those other two guys."

They all knew what that meant, who ever these men were, Remy was either working with them or captured by them.

As Ororo went to queue her communicator a commotion from within the compound grabbed their attention. Logan focused his vision toward the disturbance,

"Looks like backups gunna have to wait."

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He was breathless, for a brief moment he was even thoughtless, the sight of seeing Xavier here had forced his mind and body into a total state of shock. Only his instinct to stay conscious drove the air back into his lungs, his desire to live jump started his mind toward a plan of escape.

"Professor? Professor you der?"

No answer, not even a slight movement to indicate that he was aware of his presence.

_'Time f'r a more direc' approach den.'_

Remy walked over to Xavier and gently shook him, trying to snap the man back to reality.

"Professor c'n ya hear me? Dis gunna be a lot easier if you awake f'r it."

His head rolled to the side, Remy looked into his eyes, they were empty.

_'Merde, ain' no one home'._

He was at a loss, he didn't know how he could possibly get Xavier out of there, of the things that he had considered stealing from the facility, a paralytic vegetable was not among them. He couldn't leave Xavier, the others were different, they weren't this man. He wouldn't feel as guilty leaving nameless faces that he had never met, but Xavier was different, he had given him a home and a purpose. Even if his days with the X-Men were a thing of the past, he still had to repay his debt to Xavier; he always repaid his debts, no matter what the cost. He glanced at his watch,

_'Damn, dey gunna be comin back in soon, an I ain' got no more 'xplosions lef'.'_

An idea struck him; he quickly dismissed it because it couldn't possibly work. But when no other options came to mind he ran out of the cell back down the hall and grabbed the cart of tools that he had encountered earlier. He wheeled the cart back to Xaviers cell as fast as he could.

_'Dis never gunna work homme, you gunna end up in here wit him.'_

He really didn't care, it was a better alternative than living with the knowledge that he had left him behind. He knew Xavier would have never approved of his abandonment in Antarctica, even if he thought that he would have, he still would have risked it all to save him.

"Okay Professor, dis gunna be a bit uncomfortable but its de only t'ing Remy c'n t'ink of right now."

He unbuckled Xavier and opened up the bottom doors of the cart, he viewed the small space inside and then took measure of Xaviers dimensions.

_'Good t'ing he already paralysed cause dis gunna cramp de legs'._

He lifted Xavier from the table and folded him into the compartment, securing his arms to his chest and making sure he didn't have any extremities hindering the closure of the doors, he enclosed him within the cart.

He was going to get caught, he knew it.

This was a frivolous pursuit, he knew that too.

He had to do it though, and that was the one truth that prevailed over the others.

He wheeled the cart down the hall, back to the stairs he came down and swore a silent curse. He only hoped that the elevator was still operational.

He reached the metallic doors, the doors that would take him all the way to the first level, to possible escape, for one of them at least. He sent up a prayer to a God that he wasn't sure he believed in, and if he did exist that surely had abandoned him long ago. He pushed the button, and for a split second his heart stopped, until the button lit up and he heard the soft humming of gears turning and pulleys bringing the cage that would take him to freedom.

The doors slid open and he wheeled his passenger inside, he pushed the button that would take him to the surface, and the doors slid closed. The ride up seemed like it was an eternity, the ride that might be the last journey he took, or the second to last anyways, because in his mind, his final destination would not be reached by rising toward the heavens, but by descending down into hell. Maybe this one final act of selflessness would clear his slate of some of the wrong he had done. He reached out for Xavier, he felt nothing, he wanted desperately to bring him back but he couldn't find a connection to pull on. He suddenly wished for Jean to be here, but then quickly banished the thought. He couldn't stand Jean, she was nice to look at, as were all the X-women. But her sincere kindness and good nature had always rubbed him the wrong way. She couldn't just be like everyone else, she couldn't be superficial, when she asked what was wrong she actually wanted to know because she cared, not because she was feigning politeness or was just curious, she was Storm but with the added judgment. Remy hated that, because it meant that no matter what answer he gave she would keep coming, she never gave up, she was impossible to blow off. Every time he would circumvent her prying she would only come back again later, efforts redoubled until she could "reach" him. He just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts, his secrets, his shame and his guilt. It wasn't hers to share; it was his and his alone.

He felt his momentum halt, the moment of truth was at hand, he reached to his security blanket, his deck of cards that he still carried with him despite the infrequent use he had shown them lately. He felt a spark of his old self rekindle, this last act of selflessness reminded him who he was, if he was going out, he was going out with a bang, with his signature style and flare.

The doors opened, emptiness, there wasn't anyone or anything blocking his path to the door that led outside. This was the worst thing he could have ever expected, this was completely wrong. But now he was committed to this foolish escapade, he had come to far to turn back. He thought of the absurdity of it all, everything that he had gone through to get to this point seemed ridiculous right now.

'_How de hell did I end up here?'_

He thought of Creed, the look on his eyes as he ended his life, he surprised himself with a chuckle. His morose sense of humor was still intact, that was the one morally questionable act that he had committed in his life that he was absolutely sure of, no regrets there.

He wheeled the cart out of the elevator and up the ramp that led to his redemption. He opened the door and stepped into the moonlight, and as he expected he was not alone.

There was an army waiting for him, he was enclosed with a semi-circle of armed guards, all pointing rifles at him menacingly, as if daring him to make a wrong move. He remembered the incident with the escaped mutants - or the attempted escape rather. He knew that any wrong move would likely be his last. An average looking spectacled man with brown hair stood at the position of authority at the apex of the half circle that barred his path to the outside world, the man wore a smug expression that let Remy know he had been set-up from the beginning, that he knew this was going to happen all along, Remy knew it must be Trask. He began to wonder where it started, was it with his recruitment to the team? Or before that maybe, with his supposed infiltration into the Firm, hell was the contract he took even real? There was no way of knowing right now, in-fact he may never find out.

"So, Mr. Lebeau, where exactly did you plan on going?"

Lebeau, how did he know his name, there were a handful of people outside the guilds who knew that name, he was certain that Trask wasn't one of them. This whole operation reeked of Sinister, the setup, the experiments, the manipulation that was buried within layers of lies, there was only two people on this planet who could spin a web of deceit so thorough, and besides himself Sinister was the only option left.

"Jus' out for a stroll mon ami, thought I'd enjoy de night non?"

Trask began to close the distance between himself and Remy when one of the guards visibly tensed, as if reading his mind Trask held up a remote device and answered in a confident voice.

"Relax, the suppression field that is activated within the compound extends for at least 100 yards outside of the doors and is now adjustable, after our last incident I felt it prudent to be able to modify the range, he cannot harm me."

Confidently he placed the remote back into his lab coat, a remote that held every Mutant in the facility prisoner, at least he knew how far out he had to get to bring Xavier back.

Still, not right though. If this guy knew his last name then surely he knew the closer he got to him the more dangerous he was, powers or no powers. Trask was confident, too confident for a man in his position; there was nothing spectacular about him, nothing in his outward appearances that he could be drawing this confidence from. Remy decided that his last act in this world would be to make Trask regret that confidence, it wouldn't be a slow death like he intended but it would be a death none the less, which was more than he felt Trask deserved.

"Dese boys know you be Sinister's puppet?"

No response, only quizzical looks, he was doubtful that these men knew who Sinister was.

Remy tried to reach out with his empathy, it was still strong. If Trask was expecting him to be powerless then that meant he still had an ace up his sleeve, literally and figuratively, he held surprise which equaled advantage in this situation. But he noticed something, amidst all the emotions he picked up, Trask wasn't emitting any of them.

_'Mus' have mental barriers in place, makes sense c'nsiderin his lin o'work'._

Thirty weapons, all loaded with at least 20 rounds a piece, not counting reloads. He was fast, his kinesthetic senses would give him some kind of leeway in reaction time, but he knew that he could never dodge 600 bullets at once.

Trask continued to walk toward him, his fingers itched, the wanted the feel of plastic against them, they wanted to turn ordinary objects into deadly projectiles; he would satisfy that need soon enough.

He stood in front of him, smugly giving him the once over, Remy wanted nothing more than to wipe that look off of his face.

"What do we have here? Stealing company equipment Mr. Lebeau, that is an offense that warrants...termination."

Trask kicked the side of the cart, the doors swung open and a catatonic Xavier spilled out onto the ground.

"Taking some company with you on your stroll? Honestly, did you really think this plan could work? No one would notice you wheeling a cart across the grounds?"

"Eh, seemed like a good idea at de time."

_'Buy some time, keep em off guard, an when he ain expectin it 'm takin' him to hell wit' me.'_

Trask continued to belittle him, continued to gloat about how superior he was, Remy wasn't listening. He was reliving the better moments in his life, he was thinking of some of the things he would miss. He had already been missing some of them. He would miss the small measure of beauty that was to be found in life, he remembered his Stormy, watering her plants, taking joy in the simple life they held. He remembered how when she thought no one was around she would strip naked and sit in the rain. He had told her that he saw her once, she only laughed, unashamed with her body, as she had the right to be. He remembered the happy times he shared with Rogue, how she could bring him back from the despair that he would try and loose himself in, how for the brief few moments before her power kicked in the kiss they shared was the purest thing he had ever felt. He even remembered his nights out with Logan, two men that didn't really even like each other that much, but shared a common bond none the less. He would miss playing the hero, but he wouldn't miss hurting people that he never intended too, he wouldn't miss living with the guilt. He was ready to let it go.

As Trask continued his tirade, Remy leaned back on the metal cart and began to gather the power that he would soon let flow into it. The release would have to quick, almost instantaneous, in one fluid motion he would have to charge the cart and grab Trask, if he was going out then Trask was coming with him.

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The group stood crouched together outside of the perimeter fence that guarded the compound. They watched the scene unfold in front of them, they were all spectators intruding upon a world that didn't include them, even the men that were holding weapons surrounding the center were only guest on this stage. There were only two players who mattered in this game, two men who were the center of existence for all concerned, and their confrontation commanded the attention of everyone else around them.

Wolverine however was never one to stand on the sidelines if it could be helped, and in his opinion this was a time that it could. He already had the plan formulated in his head; he no longer even had to think of these things, years of battle had ingrained the reflexes of tactics into his mind. At least they knew where Remy stood now; they doubted that if the guards were holding over 30 weapons on the Cajun he was working for them. Logan knew if they charged in that Remy could fend for himself, if the guards hadn't been holding weapons he might have just stayed there and watched to see what the Cajun had for them. This would be tough, but they had faced worse.

But then things got complicated, the man who was talking to Remy walked over to a metal card Gambit had been pushing.

_'Probably stealin it, boy don't never learn.'_

When Xavier fell out from underneath the cart their previous plans went to shit, suddenly they thought the idea of back up sounded pretty good.

"My God, Logan is that..?"

"Ya Ro, it's Chuck".

"Holy crap, what the hell are we gunna do?"

"Can it Ice Cube! You ain't helpin!"

"We still have to find Warren."

"Bets, the only way were findin Warren is right through there, an it don't look like they got time ta wait for backup."

"We can't go in there alone! Xavier is helpless and who knows where Warren is!"

"Remy will take care of Charles, he would not have brought him this far if he had intended to leave him."

"Your blind Ororo, how can you still trust him after all he has done, I will not leave the safety of Xavier and Warren in the hands of a treacherous theif."

Ororo and Betsy were interrupted before their argument proceeded any further.

"Shit, we gotta move now."

Logan saw Remy leaning onto the cart, he could almost smell the power emanating off of him, it was strong, stronger than he had ever smelled it before.

_'What the fuck has the kid gotten into now.'_

This wasn't good.

Storm was the first to react, she called upon her talents and took to the air renewed with a fury that drew force from nature, she didn't check to see if the others were with her, she didn't care. Warren was now an afterthought, she was here to save Remy, the man who had saved her when she was a child and countless time since, the man she considered her friend and brother, the man she loved. She had too much she needed to say to him to let him slip away again, she had promised herself that if she ever got the chance she would not make that mistake again. The winds that she brought forth behind her caused every head to turn in her direction.

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They turned to look, every single one of them including Trask.

_'Mon dieu, dey gunna make it dis easy?'_

He moved to position himself, Trask was an arms length away, then he saw what they were looking at. A goddess that didn't belong on this world was bringing forth the fury of the elements, and behind her an extremely pissed off looking half man, half animal charged in. No one could tell which he was, he was moving to quick and his ferocity was displayed across his face like a twisted mask of death. Remy thought that he might actually make it to the group of guards before they remembered to shoot at him.

_'Non, don' do dis, don' take dis away f'rm me!'_

Stupid. They were coming in against an enemy they didn't know. It was fine for him to do something like that, he had concluded that his life was forfeit long ago, but they had too much to live for. And now their foolishness had stolen his moment, his last act of redemption, his last chance to die as a hero and leave behind a reputation that was more than one of a traitor was now gone. He couldn't give in now, he had to fight for them, or they would surely die.

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Cloaked in his guise as Trask, Sinister couldn't believe his fortune; never did he think that it was going to be this easy. Not only had Lebeau walked directly into his trap, but Braddock had come as well, and brought with her three extremely powerful mutants that would be excellent additions to the army he was building for Apocalypse. He began to think of the possibilities of what he could do with such subjects, experiments of combining DNA, power amplification, cloning. A sudden image of a creation that could command the elements and explode objects with merely a thought brought a foreign expression to his features that almost resembled a smile.

_'That would be quite a combination indeed.'_

Besides the mental experiments he was already running with his genetic material, Sinister had completely forgotten about Remy, he was a non-factor in the equation with his powers gone; he could never physically harm Sinister so was irrelevant now. And soon the rest would be as well.

"Do not harm them, I want them alive!"

He reached into his lab coat to retrieve the remote that controlled the suppression field, they would be much easier to capture without their powers, but he only felt the cotton material that comprised his garment. He reached into the other pocket...empty. He turned around to see a smirking Cajun who had a penchant for ruining his plans when they were in their stages of fruition.

"Lookin f'r dis homme?"

He was insolent even in defeat, it infuriated him.

He moved toward Lebeau as he reduced the suppression field to its minimum range. He would never had been careless enough to include total control over the field into one device, he could draw the range back, but they were still just barely within its effects in their current position and he could not deactivate it completely. This was only minor setback; he would soon rectify the situation. Sinister made a move toward him but stopped in utter shock when Remy tossed him the remote.

_'Surrender? Not like Lebeau, maybe he is finally learning.'_

He had seen many mutants with many powers, many of them terrifying and impressive. But even Sinister still held respect for the grace and agility that Remy's movements held. He displayed that grace with an effortless back flip that placed a metal cart in-between him and Sinister. He was still confused as to what the thief was doing, but it became clear to him when at the end of his acrobatics Remy kicked out and sent the cart toward Sinister with all the force that he could muster, a cart that was suddenly glowing with power. As he toppled over the moving cart that took him closer to the guards who were fighting the intruders, he was left with no explanation of how this could have happened, and that bothered him more than the pain he felt when the cart rocked the compound with a forceful explosion.

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"Lookin f'r dis homme?"

_'Mon brave don' look to happy bout dis, good. Jus' a little closer, dats it come an' get it.'_

Remy executed his back flip with perfect precision, as he was about to touch down he kicked out with both legs sending the cart flying, he only prayed that his charge didn't detonate from the force of the contact. It was strange, it almost felt as if the explosion wouldn't happen until he wanted it to, as if his will alone was holding it all together. He couldn't even watch the result; he immediately rolled over and shielded Xavier from the resulting blast.

It was larger than he expected it to be, this was evident when he was lifted off of the ground and thrown fifteen feet across the compound. The resulting shrapnel tore through his body, his armor protected most of his vital organs from serious damage, but a few pieces of hot metal still found their way through.

He gasped as he rolled over to view the damage, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his side, his ribs were definitely cracked, maybe broken. The effects of the explosion were devastating; he realized that if he would have been standing when his charge detonated he would probably be dead right now. Xavier seemed to be none the worse for wear, he hadn't been thrown nearly as far as Remy and he had been shielded from the shrapnel.

Just 20 feet past him was a smoking crater where the cart had detonated,

'_Trask probably in a million pieces now.'_

While the half circle that had enclosed Remy before had been a perfect offensive formation to keep him from escaping, it was the worst possible defensive formation, they were in perfect position to catch the concussion from the blast. Almost all of them had been taken from their feet, most of them had received some shrapnel wounds, some of them were serious wounds that took them from the fight, and a few of them were dead.

By the time they had gotten to their feet the X-Men were already in their midst, finishing the job that Remy had started. They took their fire power advantage away by bringing the fight into close quarters; the guards couldn't shoot out of fear of hitting their own. A few well placed lightning strikes from storm took care of the guards that were in the towers.

Wolverine was indiscriminate with his claws, meeting metal and flesh with equal ferocity. Betsy was silently operating in the shadows that followed her, taking enemies from behind with her psychic knife. The guards never had a chance. One group managed to put their backs together for a last stand, Remy recognized one of them as the guard who had taken the first shot to execute the mutant escapees. Wolverine charged this group, emitting a war cry that commanded their attention. He met the onset of bullets with practiced stoicism and left none of them alive, Remy was glad.

Iceman and Psylocke easily made short work of the rest that were still left, it seemed to Remy that Bobby had gotten stronger and was more in control of his powers, he had never seen him demonstrate his abilities so effectively, throwing up walls of ice with accurate precision, he was impressed.

When none of the guards were left standing, it left Remy to face the X-men, a prospect that he hadn't looked forward too. They stood there, the four facing the one, neither moving, each wanting someone else to make the first move. Remy was the first to break the standoff, in one swift motion he drew out his bo-staff and extended it to its full length.

"What de fuck is dis? Ya'll come here ta finish de job, couldn' jus' let me be eh? You gotta fin' me and make me suffer some more?"

Storm was crushed, she had feared this reaction above all others. They all felt anger, anger that was not their own but was emanating off Remy. They were also wary, hesitant to make the wrong move that would force them into a conflict that would end badly for everyone involved. Remy lowered the tip of his staff as he reached into his duster with his other hand. They all visibly tensed at the movement.

"Relax, ain' like you people, I ain' gunna attack you less you make me."

He pulled out his PDA that included the list of mutant names that were being held prisoner in the facility and threw it at their feet. They all flinched when it hit the ground, half expecting an explosion. Remy scoffed at them, how could they think so little of him still?

"Dat be a list of all de folks who bein' held prisoner here, dey down on de fifth level of de facility."

Logan noticed the trail of blood that was flowing down his staff from his arm before the others, the copper smell filling his senses. Soon the blood gathered in a pool below the staff, a crimson flag for everyone to see.

"Remy you are hurt, you need medical attention."

"I don' need nothing f'rm you, f'rm any of you, jus' to be lef' alone!"

"Kid ya aint gunna make it too far in that condition."

"Dat's probably what you thought when you lef' me to die before. I c'n take care of m'self."

"Let him go, we don't need him, we have to find Warren".

"Shut up Betsy!"

"Kid, ya gotta come with us, you can leave again as soon as yer healed ".

"Ain' gotta do nothin' fo you no more, Remy through playin' y'r games, ain' gunna be used by no one no more."

"Remy please listen to me, I miss you, please come back with us, we can resolve whatever differences that you may have with us."

He hated to do it, to hurt her like this, but he wasn't going back no matter what.

"Non Stormy, difference be when you can' agree on t'ings wit someone, I t'ink when you try an' kill dem you movin' past differences."

"Enough of this, where is Warren, what have you done with him!"

She made a move toward Remy, which was her first mistake; her second was loosing awareness of her surroundings. Before Remy could react to her aggression a disfigured form rose from the still smoking crater in the ground. Betsy's anger made her too focused on Remy to notice the man grab her from behind. His strength was unreal, she instinctively began to struggle against him but to no avail, the more she tried to evade his grasp the tighter his grip became. The man grabbed her pony tail and yanked her head back revealing her throat while he held her hands bound behind her back, he gave a vicious yank and she heard the snap of her own shoulder popping out of socket, she had a feeling that it was only a portion of her captor's strength.

The rest of them watched transfixed as the disfigured person began a transformation, morphing into an enemy that they all knew too well... Sinister. Before any of them could react they were warned of the consequences.

"If any of you come any closer I will break her neck."

As if to illustrate his point he snapped Betsy's other shoulder out of socket, she tried to remain stoic but could not completely stifle the scream that rose to her lips.

They hated it, they loathed the fact that Sinister had them at a standstill, but there was nothing that they could do without risking Betsy's life, and that was something that the X-men would not do. But there was one who's hatred for Sinister rose above the ideals of X-men, one who was no longer considered himself bound by their morals.

Bobby noticed the dangerous look in Remy's eyes, a look he had only seen once before, during a battle with magneto when one of the brotherhood had threatened Rogue's life. But currently the glow in his eyes was far more intense than that it was in that situation. Bobby doubted Remy's motives sometimes, he doubted whether he was trustworthy, but one thing he never doubted was his love for Rogue, Bobby never thought there was any thing that Remy cared about more than Rogue, he knew now that he was wrong.

A bright glow suddenly stole the attention away from Sinister; if the visual effect wasn't enough then the sharp sound of the air crackling around Remy would have drawn the attention of even a blind man.

Sinister looked at him with an amused expression,

_'All of that power and he would try and use it to save her worthless life'._

"You would do well to calm yourself Lebeau, you will have your chance to join me soon enough."

He had perfected the smile that had followed; it was an intimidation tactic that worked on the most steeled opponents, bred out of a fear from him, fear that was well placed. He displayed rows of pointed razor sharp teeth, his eyes went cold and sharp, pointing and threatening toward their target. But the look that he had used time and time again to intimidate only served to anger Remy even more.

He didn't care about Betsy, he only wanted one thing, to kill Sinister, and if she stood in his way then so be it. He thought that if he still had his full power he would charge Betsy just to harm him.

Remy prepared himself to advance, he was going to call Sinister's bluff and cared little for the consequences.

Before he could even take his first step Sinister opened a Tesseract behind him and stepped through. Wolverine charged but the portal was closed by the time he got to it. They all turned to Remy for answers; he only shrugged, and collapsed to the ground unconscious in a pool of his own blood.

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"Are his wounds serious?"

: "They are severe, but he will survive, by far one of his lesser concerns right now."

"He has the power to heal himself, yet he does not use it."

: "It is because he does not know he has the ability."

" Sinister has captured Braddock, he will soon free the Shadow King to serve Apocalypse, I fear that all is lost."

: "It is not lost, but it appears that the journey has become much longer as a result."


	16. Chapter 16

Ch: 16

"I can't believe that you went in looking for one missing X-man and came back missing two!"

Cyclops was pacing the room furiously, he knew there was probably nothing they could have done, he was more upset with himself that he wasn't there on the mission with them, he couldn't help feel like the outcome would have been different had he been present. And then to find out that Sarah had been one of the prisoners only added to his anger, she had been taken right from under their noses and no one had even noticed. He couldn't help but wonder how much Gambit knew about this, and what his role in the operation was.

"Actually we broke even if you count us finding the professor and Remy."

Bobby never knew when to keep his mouth shut, the look he got from Scott let him know that this was one of those times.

"If yer countin the Cajun it's more like one an' a half, he's in pretty bad shape."

"Well from what you've said Logan, Gambit doesn't really consider himself an X-man anymore, and if what you told me about what you found down in the cells is true then I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Now wait a minute bub, you don't know exactly what happened. The only reason were even having this conversation is cause gumbo found Creed before I did, I guarantee that the results would have been the same if I would've, only a whole lot messier."

Scott was going to argue with Wolverine, try and convince him that his words didn't carry any weight and that he really wouldn't have killed Creed in cold blood, but considering their past histories he wasn't so sure.

"Tell me again what you found down there, there has to be something that were missing".

"Like I said, Storm and ice cube took the Cajun and Xavier back to the Blackbird, I grabbed the list and headed down into the fifth level where Gambit said the prisoners would be. Only when I got there most of em weren't even in their cells. Only a few that were in pretty bad shape, and Creed who was in the worst shape out of em all."

Logan snickered at his own comment, he held no ill will toward Gambit for killing Creed, he was only slightly annoyed that he didn't get to do it himself.

"Marrow was on the list, but she was gone too."

"Where are the survivors now?"

"Called the authorities, there at the hospital gettin treatment right now."

"And what about Gambit?"

"He's down in the infirmary with Beast, where else do ya think he'd be?"

"Thats not what I meant".

The insinuated question hung in the air, daring someone to answer it. Logan didn't like double talk and he hated implications, if you were going to accuse a man then you should come right out and say it.

"You sayin that the Cajun had somethin to do with this?"

Scott sighed, he had hoped the reunion with Gambit to be less threatening and at a better time, be that as it was he was going to have to deal with the situation as it had presented itself.

"You said yourself that Sinister was there".

Ororo spoke next, she couldn't stand idly by and let Remy be accused without a voice to represent his innocence. No matter what the evidence she could never believe that he would be apart of something so cowardly and evil. The rest viewed it as a fault of hers; she was loyal to Gambit beyond all reasonable bounds.

"Yes but Remy held no Love for that man, it was evident in his actions."

"Look, alls I'm saying is that Gambit has worked with Sinister before then had a change of heart, this could have been one of those times."

"Sounds like yer sayin a whole lot to me Slim, ya better be careful throwin around accusations like that."

"No ones accusing anyone of anything, I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this."

"Then we will have to ask Remy when he awakens".

The rest of the men in the room gave Ororo a sad and doubtful look. As if she felt the need to clarify she added to her last statement.

"And he will awaken, of that I have no doubt."

No one dared to argue with her, the look that accompanied her confident statement put any aside any desire they might have had to counter her belief.

"Alright, I'm going to go down to the med lab to talk to Hank, maybe he has some good news."

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Apocalypse walked the great halls of his underground fortress; it was a base of his that had withstood the test of time and the assault of his enemies, mostly in part because it had been concealed from them for so long. He had waited to use this particular chamber for rejuvenation for just this reason, his final strike at the weak in this world would be made from this fortress, and no one would see it coming. He would not rush it, he had waited too long to let impatience ruin his quest for domination, he would strike when he was ready, and not a moment before.

His steps brought him to the center of his fortress, an advancement of technology that would catapult mankind into its next stages of development should he choose to share it with them, but instead he would use it to destroy.

"Sinister, bring my servant known as Angel to me, it is time that he become reacquainted with his master."

"Yes my lord, and what of Braddock?"

"Break her, the sooner we free the shadow king the better."

Sinister exited the chamber and moved to retrieve Warren. He was in the holding pens, which had gotten extremely crowded as of late. Since the X-men had discovered his base of operations in Nevada he had to move as many of his prisoners as he could here. Most of them had already been converted and no longer required imprisonment, but he was working overtime to convert the rest so that he could make room for more recruits to Apocalypses' cause.

Sinister pondered how much Apocalypse knew of his true designs, or if he even had began to expect that he had his own agenda. Surely he had, Sinister had betrayed him in the past before, he must be wary of his plans on some level, but his supreme omnipotence probably prevented him from considering him as a true threat, all the better he thought.

He cared little for Apocalypse's own agenda, as long as he had an abundant source of material to experiment with he would go along, but a time would come when they would have to part and go their separate ways; Sinister had already planned for that contingency.

"You three, come with me, we have to escort a prisoner".

Freed of their moral inhibitions and left with only the desire to serve Apocalypse, Marrow, Arclight and Juggernaught followed Sinister down into the holding pens.

The call that had been pulling Warren had ceased now that he was here, and he truly felt ashamed that he had been duped into being captured. He realized that he was devoid of all senses at the time, reduced to a thoughtless animal who only followed its most primal instincts. He didn't understand the need he had felt until he saw Sinister and was informed that he had a meeting with Apocalypse, it was then he knew what had been driving him all along.

Sinister pressed a button outside of his cell and the energy barrier that had been holding him dropped. The shackles that held him to the wall released and he realized that they were the only things holding him up when he dropped to the floor. Juggnernaught unnecessarily grabbed him forcefully by his arms and roughly pulled him out of the cell. Even if he would have had the energy there was little that he could have done, he was outfitted with a genosha collar and his wings had been bound behind his back.

"Take him to the conversion chamber where Apocalypse is."

They all eyed him warily, along with their desire to serve Apocalypse an intense fear of him had been ingrained into their psyche, none of them wanted to face him in person.

"Do as I say, he will not harm you less you give him reason too."

They understood that causing any delay would be one of those reasons and hasted to bring Warren to their master.

He felt as if he was being marched toward his own death. A prisoner on death row that was being taken to his own execution, he had replayed this scene in his nightmares a hundred times over, this was his own personal hell made into reality. He would have rather died.

When they entered into the chamber Apocalypse had his back turned, he did not yet deem them worth of his gaze.

"Leave him and be gone."

They dared not argue and complied with his command. Hearing the hiss of the door closing behind them Apocalypse turned to confront his wayward servant that would soon be brought back into his fold.

"I could have just as easily had Sinister put you through the process of stripping you of your will, leaving you with only the desire to serve me..."

Warren was silent, he would not play into Apocalypse's game, he had done that once before and it had cost him dearly.

"But I would much rather have you a willing servant, with your free will intact, you will serve because it is what you desire, you are one of the strong Warren Worthington, and your place is by my side."

He could no longer let the mounting tension build; he had to interrupt this course before it came to its undesirable end.

"I will never serve you again; if given the chance I would gladly end your existence."

Apocalypse let loose an eerie laugh, the very thought that Warren believed his death a possibility struck him as humorous.

"You answered my call Arch Angel; you came back to the master you once served. It was not even a strong call, you were more than willing to come, the token resistance you now provide is meaningless and pitiful, do not demean yourself in my eyes."

His words had an effect on Warren; he began to wonder if perhaps Apocalypse was right, did he really even put up any resistance to the call? Did he want to deny him? He remembered the free feeling that he had experienced as death, no ties, no responsibilities, only freedom.

"You only need to put words to your desire, I know what is in your heart, you cannot deny me, you only need express your one true wish to me and I will make it so."

_'No, I can't, not again.'_

"You fight your true nature; I can feel your struggle, tell me what it is that is driving you. I could not have called you if the darkness in your heart did not exist. Do not turn from it, it is a trait that the strong possess, you must confront it, to run from it would be weak, and that I will not tolerate."

His last words were pointed, a warning of repercussions to come if Warren did not succumb to his command.

_'He already knows, saying it out loud won't change the fact.'_

He had already given in.

"The traitor Remy Lebeau, I desire his death."

He felt free again, he ad often though the words but saying them out loud for his own ears to here gave them strength, brought forth the emotion he was feeling for him to confront, he had finally come to terms with what was in his heart and he realized he would do anything to achieve his desire.

"He is one of the strong; you know that you cannot defeat him on your own. I will not stand in your way should you choose to kill him, you only have to ask for my help, and I will grant it to you."

It was exact; everything about this time was the same as before. Except this time he knew what he was getting into, but it mattered little.

"I ask for your help, I ask for the power that I will need to destroy Gambit."

He felt his own shame as he spoke the words, he had not been strong enough to resist, he had not even wanted to, his desire for revenge was the purest feeling he had experienced in a long time.

"Then rise before your master my Archangel, you are Warren Worthington no more, from here on you will once again be known as death."

With that command Warren rose to his feet, and walked the short distance to the conversion chamber where Apocalypse would imbue him with the power he desired. Although it was only a few feet the walked seemed like an eternity to him, not out of fear, but out of anticipation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scott walked into the med lab, he had expected to see Rogue there, but not in the condition she was in. He felt a twinge of pity in his heart for her; he had found himself in that position before, by Jeans bedside, not knowing whether she would live or die. It was a feeling that he wouldn't wish upon anyone.

She was a mess, he gloves were colored with mascara from her tear stained face when she had wiped them away, she couldn't even muster the resolve to raise her head and look at him, she just stayed by his bedside sobbing as if her presence would some how magically bring him back to her.

'_I guess its different watching someone die as opposed to leaving them to die.'_

He hated to do it but he needed to talk to Hank alone, she didn't need to hear the news if it was bad.

"Rogue, could you give me a minute alone with Hank, he can't leave the med lab and I need to speak with him."

She barely forced out an audible answer that was interrupted by sobs.

"ah..ahlright".

When she exited the room it left him alone with Remy, Xavier, Hank and Jean who was by Xavier's bedside trying to bring him back from whatever mental state he was in.

"Hank, how does it look?"

"For whom? Both of my patients are exhibiting quite different symptoms, and thus their prognoses are equally contrary."

"Let's start with Xavier."

"Well, his physical being has taken quite a bit of damage. Scarring on the Cerebral Cortex would indicate that he was neurologically tortured. The bruising around the ribs and minor burns that are spread evenly through out his body would indicate that he was beaten and electrocuted, most likely in an effort to weaken his mental resolve."

He almost dreaded the answer to his next question, Xavier was the closest thing to a father that he had ever had, he had already lost him once and he didn't know if he was prepared to do so again.

"Will he recover?"

"I believe so, the physical damage is not too extensive to rule out a full recovery in that aspect, I cannot speak of his mental state, I believe that Jean is currently working on that. She has indicated that he has shown some signs of recovery, she thinks that it is only a matter of time before she can convince him that what he is experiencing is real. Apparently part of his torture included fabricated realities that were used in an attempt to get him to lower his shields so Sinister could have access to his will. But as I said, it is only a matter of time before he takes the step back to reality."

He felt a great wave of relief wash over him, If Xavier was able to come back to them then things would get better for the team, they had greatly missed his guiding hand. Cyclops had perfected his field leadership skills, but Xavier had always been the glue that had held the team together when emotional turmoil had threatened to rip them apart. That fact had made itself quite apparent as of late.

"And what about Gambit?"

Beast's expression suddenly seemed less optimistic. His eyes lowered and he looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Hank was glad that Scott asked Rogue to leave, he would have done so himself before delivering his expectations for his survival.

"I'm afraid that our Acadian friend is not as well off as Charles. The shrapnel wounds that he received would have been treatable, except much like I have come to know and expect from him he didn't stay down after he sustained them. His movement afterwards is what hurt him the most. The shards of metal began to work themselves through his internal organs to cause massive bleeding; honestly I don't know how he withstood the pain of it. Jean has tried to reach him but she cannot get through his shields, I don't understand it completely but he is using what little energy he has left to keep them intact, she assures me that they are quite strong and she could not penetrate them if she tried. I'm afraid that right now it's only a matter of time before he passes, alls I can do is try and make him as comfortable as possible."

He gave a soft chuckle, more for effect than from feeling because he truly felt no joy at this moment.

"It's Ironic that I would try and make Remy comfortable in my lab, this has to be the longest that he has ever stayed in it at once, I keep expecting him to jump off the table and sneak out of here before I can continue my examination. It's happened so many times before that it has become a routine for us".

Scott didn't know what to say, he didn't know how or if he was going to break the news to the team, he supposed he would have to tell Rogue first, her reaction wouldn't be one that she would want to share with the team.

"O.k. Hank, I'll go..."

He was interrupted,

"I think that perhaps there is something else you should know".

He paused, unsure of himself, waiting for Cyclops to prod him on so that he could find the resolve to continue.

"Go ahead Hank."

"I have never given Remy a full examination before, as I said he always seems to evade my medical grasps when I have tried in the past. But under his current condition I have become much more familiar with his physical and genetic make up."

"And...?"

"You are aware that the reason that Remy went to work for Sinister is because he lost control of his powers and had Sinister perform an operation on him that would help him control them?"

"That's what Rogue told us."

"Well look here."

Beast pointed to an illumination screen that held an x-ray of Gambits brain.

"You see this dark spot here at the base of the skull? That is where Gambit has been lobotomized, presumably from the operation with Sinister."

Beast looked at him with an expression that concluded all knowledge of a mystery had just come to light.

"Ummm, this doesn't really mean much to me Hank, so this is the part of the brain that controls Remy's power?"

"No, that's the thing, this has nothing to do with Cognitive or Motor function, I believe it was a cover. The real operation was a switch that was done in Remy's genetic code, the switch effectively prohibited Remy from accessing the deeper wells of his power, it would only allow him to skim the surface, quite ingenious actually."

"Why are you telling me this Hank?"

"I'm telling you because the switch **WAS** a way to keep Remy from accessing his powers, I can find traces of the initial tampering but the effect no longer remains, his body has somehow managed to reverse the tampering and restore its code to it's original form, or what I assume it's original form to be, I have no previous data to compare it too."

"So you're saying that Remy is back at his full power?"

"It would seem that he is capable of it, the removal of his brain may have just acted to serve as a placebo, I can not really determine the original intent of Sinister, its just speculation right now."

"How long has he had access?"

"For quite sometime as far as I can tell, the genetic signature is very faint, leading me to believe that his last transformation occurred years ago. His genetic makeup is nothing short of miraculous, it is no wonder that Sinister was so interested in him, he is quite an enigma. Where most only have one irregularity that results in their powers it seems that Remy has several."

"Is that all?"

"That is all that I can tell you, Remy is still my patient and I remain hopeful if not doubtful of his recovery, I cannot tell you more of his condition unless he passes."

"Hank if there is something about one of the members of my team that affects them I need to know."

"Understood, but the rest of the results of my examination are more of a...personal matter that Remy may not wish to reveal, from what I know of him he would most likely consider it embarrassing."

Scott no stranger to a life on the street, he was not as versed as Remy and was lucky enough to find a foster home and be taken in by Xavier, but he picked up on the undercurrent of Hanks insinuation, he would not press the matter further.

"I understand Hank; please keep me posted if there is any change."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He laid there, seemingly unconscious to the world around him, yet registering every word that was spoken in his presence, words and so much more.

At first he was furious, he felt an anger that he did not know he could posses toward anyone but Sinister. How dare she sit at his bedside and pine for his loss? What right did she have after she had left him to die? Where was she when he his life was freezing out of his body, a life that she had thrown away like the symbol of love he had given her? The only reason she was doing it was to clear her conscious, she didn't care about him, how could she?

But then he felt her regret, her shame and her fear of his death, he felt her love that she had for him, it was genuine. It made him wretch with the emotional equivalent of vomiting, her hypocrisy made him sick; he didn't care how genuine her feelings were.

He had listed to the conversation between Scot and Hank, neither hopeful of his survival. He wasn't sure that he had wanted to come back, not to them at least. They had no right to bring him here; they should have just let him die alone, like he had wanted. Instead they brought him to die here, among people of mixed emotions, some who loved him, some who hated him, and some who just didn't care.

He was tired, tired of life. He was tired of being used again and again, never for a purpose that was his own, he just wanted it all to end. He had made up his mind, he was going to let go.

He released the bonds that he had been grasping to, slipping back into his final unconsciousness, and it felt good, he knew had made the right choice as he felt the pain slipping away. When he was as far gone as he could go without turning back, when he thought that he was finally free, he hit a barrier, and he heard a voice.

_: "Not yet child, you are still needed on this world, you have much to do". _

_'What is dis, who are you? Is dis mon dieu?"_

_: "No child, you are not yet ready to meet him, you have to return to your world, it still has a great need for you, all will reveal itself at the proper time."_

_"But I don' understan', what do you wan' f'rm me?"_

His last words were not spoken in his mind, but from his own lips, as his eyes fluttered open and he stared at the ceiling of the med lab.

_'Non, was so close, I can' be back.'_

He tried to sit up but the pain of his recently incurred wounds forced a groan from his throat. Beast immediately went to Xavier's bedside and began checking his vitals, Remy was amused at the bewildered expression on Hanks face when he found no indication that Xavier's condition had changed.

Remy had liked Hank from the moment they had met. Remy remembered their first encounter with wistful humor. Hank had insisted on giving him the same initial examination that all of the X-men had to undergo when they joined the team, Remy of course had done everything in his power to evade Hanks prodding. The doctor had followed him around for weeks trying to gain Remy's compliance, but he conveniently held excuses in reserve in order to avoid the examination. Eventually Hank conceded his efforts and realized that it would take nothing short of a miracle to get Remy to the med lab when he was conscious.

Hank had been the only member of the team upon his arrival that didn't hold reservations about Remy, his questions were direct and to the point and rarely had anything to do with anything other than his well being. He was genuine in his concern and was hid nothing in his questioning, Remy appreciated it.

" 'enry I t'ink I been here long enough eh? bout time for Remy to go."

Hank dropped the stethoscope he was using to examine Xavier in shock, he slowly turned to regard Remy and it was moments before he remembered to even breathe.

"Remy?"

"In de flesh mon ami".

"But how?"

"Done tol' you 'enry, I t'ink I need to check outta here."

He gave Hank a wry smile that pulled him out of his stupor, he immediately began to check his vital signs.

"Jean! Jean! I need you to hand me a shot of morphine".

Jean was by his side in a flash; she was as surprised as Hank and still hadn't found her voice to speak yet. She had already accepted Remy's death, he had caused them all so much pain already; she had hoped that in giving his life to save Xavier they would have gained some sort of closure upon his passing, able to forgive him his transgressions and remember him a hero. But now he was alive and it left so many questions to answer.

"Here Remy, this will help with the pain."

Beast began to examine his wounds, undressing them and disposing of the blood soaked bandages that covered his entire torso.

"You must lay still Remy, your wounds are still very severe, I have no idea how you are even conscious right now".

"Mus' be de lucky pack o'cards I been caryin' round wit me lately."

"You may want to entertain the idea of returning them to the retailer that you purchased them from, they don't seem to be working very well as of late."

"Ha, don' make me laugh 'enry, it hurt to bad."

Hank began to re-wrap Remy's bandages when a group of individuals burst through the door, Rogue was at the head of the pack. Hank shot an accusing glare at Jean, she only shrugged her shoulders as if to say she was sorry but they were stuck with them now.

"What are you doing in here, Remy is no condition to receive visitors right now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Hank could be quite intimidating when he was angry, if he did not put forth a conscious effort too keep his features soft and non-threatening the results were ferocious. The intrusion into his domain had given him reason to be angry, none of the interlopers wanted to challenge the doctor on his turf, they knew the protectiveness that Hank held for his patients, and they were all hesitant to go against these doctors' orders.

"But Hank, ah have ta talk ta him, please."

"I'm afraid now is not the time Rogue, he is still very weak, he doesn't need to deal with any unnecessary stress."

Remy remained quiet, he did not even acknowledge their presence. He felt their emotions, a mix that swirled into confusion, he didn't even try to pick out individual ones, they were all so predictable to him anyways.

"Henry please, I must see my brother if only to apologize."

That one almost made him turn and look, he would always hold a soft spot in his heart for Ororo, no matter how hard it had become.

"Hmpf, he's probably fakin' anyways, seen him get into worse scrapes in a bar and come out fine. He'll be seakin a smoke as soon as you turn yer back."

Logan turned to leave but called out over his shoulder first,

"I'll see you about Creed later Gumbo, I owe you a drink."

That one almost made him laugh, he had to try hard to keep the smirk from his face, he suspected that Logan would have be pleased with the manner in which he dispatched Creed.

"Look Hank, I know Remy needs to heal but time is of the essence here. We need to find out what he knows about Sinister and the facility in Nevada. Peoples lives are at risk here and he needs to come clean with what he knows."

Rogue stirred some feelings of remorse in him; he was able to push those away. Ororo had drawn out the pity in him, sorry that he had hurt her and betrayed her trust, he repressed those to deal with later. Logan appealed to his indomitable sense of humor; he did his best to hide the resulting smile until it passed. But Scott Summer brought out something that he was getting increasingly worse at controlling lately, anger.

He knew he shouldn't move, even as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and felt his stitches pop open he knew he should stop and lay back down. But this was where he drew the line; they had brought him back just to put him on trial again and he was not going to allow it.

He stood there in front of them, his torso only half covered in fresh bandages that were already seeping with his blood. He looked closer to death than life, there were no signs of the once carefree soul on his features, he looked cold and uncaring, unconcerned with whether he lived or died, devoid of concern for life, including others; he reminded Bishop of the Witness.

He felt dizzy from the drugs that had been pumped into his veins, but his anger focused his mind into a state of clarity.

"Fuck you Summers, ain' tellin' you shit. Where my clothes at Henry? I'm leavin dis shit hole, didn' wanna come back here no way."

Hank began to take a few cautions steps toward Remy, trying not to force him into action.

"Remy please, .."

His voice was barely a whisper, If Remy could have seen himself in a mirror he would have shared the doctors concern, the floor was slick with his blood as it began to pool around his feet, coating his bare legs on the way down. Hank was unsure how he was still alive.

"..you need to lie back down, let me dress your wounds and I will personally drive you to the front gates when you are ready."

"Don' fuckin patronize me, I'll walk to de damn gates right now, right after me an monsieur Summers have a word".

The usual smile that accompanied a veiled threat from Remy in these circumstances was inviting and mischievous, it was the same smile that he had given to scores of women who were seduced by the promises of excitement that it held. But this smile was neither mischievous nor exciting, it promised anger and retribution, it could not be described by any other word than sinister, and it was aimed at Scott

"So you t'ink dat you gunna put Remy on trial again huh homme? Mebbe you'd like to reconsider non?"

He reached into his duster to retrieve his bo-staff, this almost seemed to easy to him, like he had done this a hundred times before.

The others started at him confused. The bewildered expression on his face when he was running his hands down the side of his hospital gown made him look like he was half crazy, as if he was trying to find pockets that weren't there.

He began to mutter

"Where my staff at? What did ya do wit my t'ings. You experimentin on me Hank? Is dat what dis is, you cuttin' me up like Sinister eh?"

"Remy you are delusional, please just sit back down and let me help you." The words were spoken with tears in his eyes.

"Bull shit, you t'ink dis is gunna be easy, but I ain' goin down wit out a fight."

He felt himself getting weaker; the euphoria of lightheadedness filled his senses as the onset of tunnel vision narrowed his gaze to where he could only see Cyclops. Remy knew that he was on the verge of passing out, but instead of bracing himself for the fall he made one last gallant charge at the leader of the X-men to let them all know what he thought of them.

He had it all planned out in his mind, a running leap of fury right into the middle of their midst, he might even manage to get something in his hands to charge so he could do some real damage. He felt energized with his new plan and could see himself spring into action as he began his glorious charge with a first step. In his mind he had never looked so dangerous when facing off with an opponent; he was surprised they weren't all running in fear, the image brought a smile to his face, he was going to enjoy this.

The rest of them saw Remy standing there, swaying back and forth, barely holding on to consciousness. The only reason that Hank hadn't subdued him yet was because his hands were glowing with power, threatening to charge anything they came in contact with. Not to mention that any struggle might rip his already torn sutures completely apart.

Suddenly he got a sly look on his face that reminded them all of who he used to be, it was arrogant and cocky and smacked of everything that was Remy Lebeau. He took one staggering step forward….

Still smirking in confidence as his foot moved…

and he collapsed to the ground oblivious to the world around him.

The rest of them only stared at each other as Hank rushed to his side, praying silently that Remy didn't undo the work that he had spent hours on. He liked helping people, he loved doing it when it was his friends, but he hated it when it was frivolous because the receiver of his care held no concern for his own safety. It was his job to look after the members of the team like Remy, the ones who were too stupid or stubborn to admit defeat and know when the natural processes of their own bodies required them to stop and recover. And because everyone seemed to think they knew what was best for Remy he had failed in that job. When he had placed him back on the lab table, and set him on an IV drip as well as several pints of blood, he turned to the X-men who were standing in front of him.

With a blank look on his face that they had all seen many times when he was operating, indicating that he was purely in business mode, he turned into a blue flash as he finished the job that Remy had started and lunged toward Scott.


	17. Chapter 17

To my reviewers: Thanks for the feedback, I would have quit long ago if not for the great reviews. There sure are a lot of Scott haters out there, for some reason people like to make him the whipping boy in their fics. Hopefully this chapter answers some questions about what's been going on, you have to be somewhat familiar with cannon to understand it.

CH17:

"He is loosing his mind, did you not see the delusional state he was just in? He will end up like the other, broken beyond repair."

: "The creation of Legion was successful; he was an immensely powerful being, he was simply a victim of circumstance."

"Until his power drove him mad, what makes you sure that the same will not happen to this one?"

: "Because he is stronger, his mental state was a result of his injuries and nothing more. What you fail to understand is that his delusions are not so far removed from reality as you would think, remember his past, does he have reason to trust anyone under these circumstances? He certainly has reason to be wary; it was not so long ago that these people left him for dead."

"Yes, he is stronger, which is what frightens me most of all. If he looses his mind like Legion I fear that he will not be stopped as easily."

: "That strength is a necessity, you know the test that humanity now faces, and The Celestials will not hesitate to destroy this world if humanity is judged unworthy".

"Yes I know, for almost the entire existence of this race you have been telling me why we are so interested in this world. Yet you never reveal the details, have I not been a worthy apprentice to you?"

: "You have performed you duties admirably I must admit."

"Then why will you not tell me the whole story, you used to claim it was because I was to young to understand, but I have been by your side for eons now, I feel that I have earned as much. I fear that I cannot continue to walk on this precipice of disaster any longer without knowing the full reason why I do it. We have come too close to breaking the oath of non-interference that all watchers take, if I am to risk the rebuke of the council then I must know why I do it."

: "Very well, I suppose that you will find out sooner or later as it is. But before I begin be warned, this information is not privy to all watchers, the council has gone through great lengths to keep this secret from spreading through our people, it would cause a rift that would be irreparable and most likely lead to a civil war."

"I understand."

: "You were present for the creation of The First, you know of his origins as you were with me upon his entrance into this world."

"Of course, I remember it well, we watched with great interest to see the path that he would take."

: "You are also aware that his creation is a constant through out all realities of this Earth that are watched over by our people?"

"Yes, it is common knowledge."

: "Do you not ever wonder how The First became so powerful without our interference?"

"I do, but I see no reason to question it, I have observed no outside influence per the law of our people."

: "Yes, that is part of the secret that the council keeps. The First was indeed powerful upon his creation, but not as powerful as he is now, he was granted these powers by entities far greater than himself."

"Do you mean our people created The First? How? Why would we do something of that nature? Our whole purpose is to keep the balance neutral and maintain the natural order."

: "No, it was not our people, not directly anyhow, unfortunately The Celestials do not hold the ideal of non-interference as reverently as we do, they granted him the power."

"Why? That makes no sense; they do not usually interfere but only judge and destroy."

: "It is rather complicated, so I must start from the beginning.

Many years ago in another reality of this earth there was a watcher name Uatuu. Uatuu had been reprimanded by the council for breaking his oath on more than one occasion and had fallen out of their favor. He held a special place in his heart for humanity, he took great interest in their progress, he viewed their success as his success, their failures as his failures. He committed the ultimate mistake and became to close to the world he was observing. The council was aware of this and grew increasingly worried over time with his involvement.

What he never divulged to the council is that he was trying to improve the race so that when The Celestials came they would deem this race worthy of continuing its existence. He held the utmost faith in humanity, a faith that at times seems misplaced, so he made a wager with The Celestials. He was very smart about the wager he made, it involved no time table to speak of and could continue endlessly as long as humanity existed.

His wager was that Humanity would evolve into something greater, a pure race that would transcend the stars and spread a great culture through the universe. Every 3000 years The Celestials would check upon their progress, if they had made advancement then they would be allowed to continue, but if they regressed then they would be destroyed. Uatuu's part of the wager was that he would not inform the council when The Celestials came to claim their victory and our people would not fight them over the fate of this world as we have so many others.

But as clever as Uatuu was The Celestials were just as cunning, so they picked a champion on this world to fight for their cause, they only saw the darkness in humanity and had deemed it unworthy, they wanted it destroyed. Yet they were not strong enough to defeat our people without suffering unacceptable losses, so they made the deal with Uatuu, certain that humanity would fail and seal their own fate.

The champion they picked was The First, they granted him the great power he now possesses on one condition, that he use it to destroy the weak on this world. Either way The Celestials felt that they had found the answer, If The First succeeded then humanity would be destroyed, if he failed his efforts would still launch this world into a war of darkness that would give The Celestials reason to deem them unworthy. The First is unaware of their plans and the way he is being manipulated, it hardly would matter however because his true desire has always been to conquer. This is why we have created The One, to defeat The First before he pushes this world into a chaos that would ensure its destruction at the hand of The Celestials. He is the only hope that they have for survival."

"But that was not even this reality; it was only one reality, why would the others have to worry?"

: "You show that you are still an apprentice with your words, expand your mind and think greater. The Celestials do not think in terms of one reality vs. another, to them they are all the same. Like us they move through alternate universes and have no counterparts, they are one people that reside over all realities. When Uatuu made the wager he had intended it to only be for that one reality, but The Celestials do not think in those terms. Thus The First was created on all worlds and imbued with his power by The Celestials, and he has succeeded in carrying his objective out in most of them. Our reality is one of the last that has not fallen, but when it does the cycle will be complete and The Celestials will claim victory, Earth will be lost in all realities."

"So our people are responsible, it only took one of us breaking the oath to create this disaster."

: "Yes, now you see why our task is so important, we cannot interfere yet we are still responsible for the fate of these people."

They sat and stared down at the situation that had been caused by their own people, one of them grimly determined to set things right, the other still reeling from the news that had been received.

"I have suddenly come to a conclusion."

: "And what would that be?"

"I now find myself rooting for Remy Lebeau as strongly as you."

: "You use his name now?"

"I think he deserves as much."

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The pain that she felt was sharp and intermittent. They had finally forgone physical torture when they realized that it wasn't gaining them any progress. Instead Sinister opted for one of his inventions, a small neurotransmitter that was attached to the base of her skull. The device caused random pains of varying intensity to shoot through her mind; she couldn't brace herself for the pain because she didn't know when or how strong it was going to be. Occasionally, almost as a joke the device would only send a slight buzz, teasing her and reminding her that she had no control over what was about to come, it only made it all the more maddening.

Her concentration was beginning to slip. She had been robbed of her powers by a genosha collar; the walls of her mind were no longer fortified by her mutant abilities, she only had the natural strength of her mind to rely upon to stay sane. The pulses that were tearing through her neural pathways causing anguish that originated from inside her own mind were greatly challenging her ability to cling to sanity.

They had thought to humiliate her by stripping her of her clothes, they were mostly unaware of what her usual combat attire was, this was nothing she was unfamiliar with. There was nothing about her body that they could ridicule, it was as close to perfect as it could get, and she was aware of the fact. She had the feeling that it was making her captors more uncomfortable that it was making her; the females would stare at her enviously while the males would stare longingly. She entertained the thought of enticing them, torturing them with simple gestures and positioning of her hips, she knew how to get to a man. But then she thought better of it, no sense in drawing any unwanted attention, especially since she was incapable of fighting off any sexual advances.

Her voice had gone hoarse long ago from screaming, she had since resorted to responding to the pain with long drawn out gasps for air, her jaw had contracted so fiercely on the last jolt that she chipped a tooth from the force of it. Every so often her mouth would fill up with blood from the large chunk of flesh that was missing from the inside of her cheek. She passed the time by waiting for one of her captors to get close enough to where she could spit it out at them, after the fifth time she still found it hilarious, even the resulting backhand she received from Arclight didn't stifle her laughter. But the strong hand that clamped her under her jaw did,

"Try that again and I might let one of these boys have some time alone with you, or maybe I'll do it myself and let them watch, just to get them worked up first, you know how they can get about these things."

Betsy no longer had the desire to antagonize this one, she was surprised that they hadn't resorted to that tactic already, but the longer that she could delay it the better. She knew she could recover from the mental anguish she was experiencing, but living with the memories of being used by strangers was not something that she would wish to live with. Still, she would show no weakness or fear, perhaps if they thought it wouldn't make a difference then they wouldn't bother.

She only smiled at Arclight and gave her a seductive wink.

"Bet you'd like that wouldn't you?"

Arclight turned in disgust and went back to her post, leaving Betsy to endure her automated torturer.

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The silence was the most maddening aspect of his imprisonment, cut off from all outside stimulus, left to rot in his prison. The walls that contained him were strong, stronger than he was capable of destroying in his weakened state. It had been too long since he had been able to feed on fear or hate, the primary elements of his sustainment. He was unaware of how long he had been trapped, or what was going on in the outside world. Surely he had not been forgotten, he was too powerful of a being to be left to his solitude for any serious length of time. He still clung to the hope that someday he would be freed, and when that day came he would exact his revenge on the world that cast him away.

Sleep was foreign to him; his mental specter did not tire, so he was left to sit and wait out the time, counting each second until his release. In the past his cell had been jarred on occasion, giving him false hope that he would be freed from his miserable fate, but eventually the tremors would pass and he realized that his salvation was not coming from whatever event that had caused his captors concentration to wane.

So when he noticed a slight crack forming in the base of one of the walls that held him, he did not get over anxious. He would sit and wait, biding his time and conserving what little strength he had left. If this was truly the circumstance he had been waiting for, he would be ready to act and take his revenge.

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They stood surrounding the two, each one of them stunned into silence. None of them had ever seen him react this way before, at least not toward one of his friends. Scott Summers was more surprised than anyone, he found himself pinned up against the wall, feet dangling in the air before he even realized what was going on. An angry face filled his entire vision, its canines barred and breath barely controllable, he stared into a face that only reflected pure anger back at him.

Hank felt a hand rest upon his shoulder, it was non threatening but he would not be dissuaded before he made his purpose clear, as angry as he was, he was still calculating and intelligent, he would keep these actions controlled so they would have a lasting effect. He turned his gaze upon the unwanted interloper, Bobby removed his hand and took a step back, they didn't believe for a second that Hank would hurt Scott, but this was so out of character for him they wanted to bring him back to his senses before he did or said something he would regret.

He evened out his breathing and leveled his voice so that it was cold and concise, demanding attention and obedience with a slight threat of repercussion.

"You will all listen to me right now; you will listen and heed my words if you ever want so much as a stitch or a band aid from me again."

He looked over his shoulder and glanced at the members in his peripheral vision to ensure that he had their attention. They wouldn't have noticed if Magneto himself had attacked them right now.

"Scott, you are the leader of this team, and you do an excellent job. More importantly you are my friend, as are the rest of you. I will always defer to your judgment in manners that concern the X-men and their missions. But know this, all of you; when you walk through that door you are crossing a border, entering into a domain where you have absolutely no authority. I am the sole master of this domain and my word is law, and there is absolutely one-hundred percent, no questioning my word in this laboratory when it comes to medical issues or even what décor I choose. If any of you think you are more qualified to serve as the team's doctor then I would be glad to step down and let you deal with the constant impossible task of keeping a team of superheroes who act like children most of the time healthy. I do not toil endlessly for your entire well being to have my efforts undone by your arrogance and inability to listen. Your stupidity just now almost cost Remy his life, and if it would have I assure you that the X-men would be minus one doctor right now. These are not threats, but facts that I am giving you as a warning, if you continue to ignore my medical opinions then you will no longer find yourself with the nuisance of hearing them."

Hank lowered a stunned Scott back to the ground. He gave Scott a quick once over to ensure that he was not harmed before he turned his back and walked back to the table that held Remy. And just to be sure, he added as an afterthought while he was hunched over his patient, loud enough for every one to hear,

"Remy, do not think for a moment that this does not apply to you as well, If you missed my speech you will be given an abbreviated version upon your awakening so you cannot feign ignorance, although from your constant disregard for your own well being I wonder how much of that supposed ignorance is actually an act."

Scott and a few of the others shuffled their feet; he tried to offer an apology but was cut of by the raising of beast's hand.

"Please, now is not the time. I hold no ill will toward any of you but I must ask you to leave so that I can get back to work."

Annoyed he added,

"It is going to take me a while to redress Remy's wounds."

The X-men turned to leave one by one; they were almost all out when Hank heard Bobby laughing...

"Man Scott, you got told, that was awesome."

"Shut up Bobby."

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Scott was slightly ashamed of himself; he knew that he had made a mistake, something that he had been doing more and more as of late when it came to the management of the team. He wasn't embarrassed that he wanted to talk to Gambit, just in the manner that he had executed his request. He never meant to come off as demanding; he respected Hanks opinion as much as the rest of the team, they were all grateful for his services and knew how invaluable he was.

He never even truly believed that Gambit had been working with Sinister, but he did feel that he knew something about what was going on at that facility. He was just doing his job as the leader of this team to gather every bit of useful information that he could, he was the one responsible for their lives, if something happened to one of them because of his inaction then it would rest on his shoulders and no one else's, he sometimes wondered whether or not they understood that. It was so easy for everyone else to judge him, they all had their own reservations and opinions and if he didn't side with them then he was automatically wrong. Did they think it was easy trying to stay neutral on every subject that could divide the team, he had to be so careful not to lean toward one groups standings as opposed to the other. He didn't want to outright accuse Remy but he couldn't totally absolve him either. His decisions had to be flawless and backed up by hard factual evidence, going on his gut feeling would only gain him disapproval and end in people questioning his judgment.

The ones who hated Remy wanted Scott to kick him out of the mansion right now, the ones who still considered Remy a friend wanted him to welcome him back with open arms, neither side would be happy with the decision he made unless it was the one they wanted. He had to somehow find a way to make them see that his course of action, what ever that may end up being would be the best to follow, or else his X-men would split right down the middle, an un-crossable chasm that would be beyond repair, and Remy would be right in the middle of it. Some how he had to find away to bring both sides together to agree on the same course of action, somehow he had to let the rest of the team decide for themselves.

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This was devious, even more so than the other attempts. He had not thought them to be as resourceful as this current fabrication proved them to be. The rest had been old memories or had at least drawn from them, taken from his mind and made new, trying to draw him out of his fortress back into the real world so they could break him.

But this was new, and they had gone through such great lengths, mimicking every detail exactly. It was not The First scenario of his rescue that they had used, but every time they overlooked some detail. At first they were easy to pick out; The First attempt had involved Jean killing a guard, something she would never do. A later fabrication showed Logan and Scott shaking hands after they had freed him, he had actually laughed at that one. They had gotten better after each attempt, the inaccurate details were more minor and harder to identify, the last attempt had brought him closer than any of the previous, he had began to take The First step in lowering the barriers that separated him from the outside world. But as he was about to step Remy drew attention to himself,

"'lo Professor Xavier, welcome back."

Professor Xavier; he'd talked to him a hundred times and never had he addressed him in that way. Xavier, professor, Charlie, chuck, even manipulative son of a bitch. He had used any one name on various occasions, but never his proper title of Professor Xavier, it was unlike him. So he pulled his walls back up and retreated into himself.

This time it was so elaborate though, it felt so real. He recognized Jean's telepathic signature, trying to reach him. The details of his surrounding were exact, the interaction between the team was real, it was substantial. He had never seen some of them act this way before but knew that they were capable of displaying these emotions. It was a new scenario but with reactions that were believable, was this finally it? He couldn't be sure, he couldn't risk it, his responsibility was owed to more than just his own desires, he couldn't allow Sinister to access the part of his mind that he was after.

But then it hit him, or more precisely it didn't hit him. Tensions were running understandably high, surface thoughts were flying from all the X-men in the room and he was picking up on every one of them. Every one but one, Remy was unreadable, he couldn't pick up on anything from the man, just as he would have expected. This was as close to certain as he thought he would get, reluctantly and expecting the worse, Xavier stepped out of his fortress and made the journey back to reality, he found himself closer to the world that he had been observing as his eyelids fluttered open. It was the exact same on the outside as it had been on the inside, he was finally home, tears began to stream down his face from the utter relief he felt.

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The others had left, but she couldn't bring herself to stray to far from the med lab, so she waited outside the door, hoping that he would soon regain consciousness. She had gone over what she would say to him a thousand times since that day she left him behind, none of the words she had formed in her head sounded right, nothing that she could say would alleviate his pain and her guilt. After witnessing his reaction her fears were bolstered, he was not happy to see them, in fact he was furious.

_'At least he took it out on Scott, if he woulda turned on me I don't know what I woulda done.'_

She could live with him hating her for what she did, she could live with any feeling that he held toward her, as long as it was something. What she couldn't accept was him not being in her life in someway. She felt that if they could somehow convince him to stay that things would gradually return to normal. She hadn't even began to think of what Destiny's prophecies meant for them, she had been wrong before, plus they were always so vague, maybe they had already changed the course of the future by showing up at the facility. There was no way to know, after all the experiences this team had dealing with alternate timelines it did them little good to ponder on the "what ifs" of their actions.

She was startled to see storm walking toward her. She felt that they had mended some of the wounds that Remy's departure had caused in their friendship, she still wasn't overtly friendly with her but she had been that way with everyone lately, Rogue attributed it to her still being down about Remy's condition.

"Rogue, what are you doing out here? I thought Hank made it clear that he was not to be disturbed."

"Ah know sugah, but I just couldn't leave without knowin he was gunna be ahlright."

Storm stood with a look of disbelief on her face, she felt the anger stirring with in her and fought to keep in contained.

"Be that as it may, if you care for Remy as you say you do then I feel it best that you leave, I do not think that you are the first person he wishes to see upon his recovery."

Now it was Rogue's turn to try and fight down her anger, however she was not as disciplined as Storm was when it came to hiding her emotions. It was one of the traits that Remy had found so attractive about her.

"Ah don't need your permission to see no one! And what do ya mean by that any how? You don't think I care about Remy? You don't think I been up every night cryin ovah what ah done to him? Then you don't know nothin!"

Storm let it go, she was tired of holding it back and being the example for others, she was just as human as the rest of them and now she was letting it show.

"Do not lecture me child! I was not the one who betrayed him, it was you! I will not stand by and let you make that mistake again, Remy may be a fool when it comes to you but I am not, you will stay away from him this time, he does not need your brand of comfort that includes breaking his heart."

Now she understood, it was becoming quite clear to her what it was all about.

"Why Storm? So ya can have em foah yourself? You want me outta tha way so their aint nothin or no one standin between the two of ya? You think I'm stupid? I seen the way you look at him, you wan't him just as bad as me cept the only differnce is your to afraid to do anythin about it!"

Each woman stood face to face, inches from each other, their fist balled in fury. Storms eyes began to turn a milky white and Rogue prepared herself to launch into an attack.

"My relationship with Remy is none of your concern; your relationship with him however, is over."

"Ovah my dead body!"

Before their conflict could escalate the door to the med lab opened and a bemused looking beast separated them with his person, an act that even the bravest individuals in the world would consider foolish.

"Do I need to extend the boundaries of the med lab in order to assure that my patients get the rest they require? I hardly think that if Remy woke up right now it would do him much good to hear the two most important women in his life fighting like schoolgirls outside the door. While it would most likely serve to boost his already overinflated ego it would do little to help him rest".

They both stared down at the floor sheepishly, they had not realized in the heat of the moment how loud they had gotten. However their embarrassment did little to quell the rage that was swelling inside each of them. Storm decided to be the more mature of the two and spoke first.

"We will continue this conversation later Rogue."

With that she turned on her heals and walked away, she didn't hear the words Rogue muttered under her breath.

"You can count on that sugah."

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She needed the natural feel of the air against her skin, the calmness that nature provided her. She had lost control of herself, it was something that she never allowed but the thought of Remy managed to bring it out in her. She soared through the air into the clouds, feeling the power that was hers to command, she needed this release after her confrontation.

She had watched it all happen to him through the years. She had watched the torture that he endured, the hatred and the loathing, and that was just what he inflicted upon himself. He needed no help form the likes of her to cause himself pain. She should have interfered long ago, but at times it seemed that she made him happy, and that was what she desired for him most of all. But now the harm that she caused him outweighed any good and she felt that she and she alone could provide Remy with the happiness that he deserved. She would do everything in her power to keep Rogue away from him, no longer would she allow that woman to imbue suffering upon Remy, she cared for him too much for that, she loved him too much for that.

He had gone too long without anyone looking out for his best interest. Even those that are truly alone in this world with no one to care for them at least have themselves to look after. But Remy wouldn't even do that, he cared as little for himself as those around him did, for his safety, his feelings and his own heart. He always gave ten times more than he got back, she wondered why he did it, but she knew it was because he carried so much love with him, he was only looking for a family to share it with. When he thought that he had finally found that family they showed him that he was wrong, they threw it all back in his face and left him to die, she could not think of a worse betrayal. This time it would be different, she would ensure that he was looked after and would receive the caring attention that he deserved, and she would be the one to give it to him.

She could only hope that he would return the feeling, she didn't think that he would reject her, but then again she knew that even though she was closer to him than anyone, even she didn't totally understand the enigma that was Remy Lebeau.


	18. Chapter 18

CH 18:

He was a blank slate, the memories still existed but any feeling that had been attached to them was but a distant echo, something that he had remembered hearing but couldn't quite place. He did not miss his former self, the intense power that he now possessed overrode any feelings of remorse that may have been possible for him to experience.

He now walked the halls of Apocalypse's fortress as his second in command, heralded above all, even Sinister. He was respected by all, but even better to him he was feared.

His master had already sent him on several missions, collecting mutants that he believed to be strong, but he only had the desire for one thing, the death of Lebeau. He didn't even remember why, but his hatred was so ingrained in his psyche that it was the one part of his former self that he held on to, he would not let it go. His master had promised him his chance, and despite the respect that Apocalypse commanded Archangel would demand that he deliver.

"Archangel, have you delivered the mutants you were sent after?"

He sneered at sinister with contempt, he was not fooled by his cooperation, he knew he only abided by his masters rule because it served his best interest.

"I do not answer to you Sinister; you would do well to remember your place."

"I know my place, do not overestimate your power, remember where my own comes from. My power originates from Apocalypse, I have more than enough strength that is required to destroy you."

"Perhaps, but you know the repercussions and you would not dare."

"Really, is that so? You place much faith in the master you serve, even though he has not yet delivered on the promise to you that he made."

"You know nothing of our arrangement!"

"On the contrary, I know all that I need to know, and I know more about Lebeau than anyone else in existence, I made him what he is today."

"I see where your pathetic reasoning is leading Sinister, I will not fall for your manipulations, I have already sold my soul to the devil, I have nothing else to offer you, you waste your time."

"You know nothing of what I want...Death"

The last word was spoken of contempt. He had no qualms about people being manipulated, as long as he was the one doing it. Apocalypse thought Worthington was strong, but the easy way that he played into his plans made Sinister view him as weak.

"What is this great secret that you hold about Lebeau, what information could you possibly provide me with that Apocalypse could not?"

"I have long known of Lebeau's power, after all I was the one who initially helped him control it. I knew that it was only a temporary solution and that one day he would grow powerful beyond my control. So I took appropriate measures."

"Which were?"

"I did not have the means to derive the method of his defeat at that time, besides I still had a need for him. However he has outgrown his usefulness to me as an employee. I removed a portion of his brain to study; he believes that it was part of the procedure to help him control his powers. I have spent many years studying his genetic material, finally I have derived a virus that will bypass his natural genetic defenses and render his powers useless."

"And you have constructed this virus?"

"I have, but seeing as you have nothing to offer me I believe I will hold on to it for safe keeping".

There was something to be gained here, he knew it. Apocalypse had provided him with the power, and now Sinister was providing him with the means. It was an opportunity that he could not pass on.

"What is it that you desire, what services do you require from me?"

"You will not destroy Lebeau but bring him back to me so that I may study him further."

"Hmmm, a fate far worth than death, fitting for the traitor, I have one condition."

"What would that be?"

"That I get to watch."

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Xavier resided at the head of the table now, he was thankful to Cyclops for his management of the team, but this was something that was best dealt with using tact. Scott was an excellent tactician, his field leadership was unparalleled and he had done an admirable job of holding this team together in his absence. But Xavier knew this team's emotional structure better than they themselves did, it would take a master of psychology to mend the recent wounds that they had endured.

"Were all glad yer back Chuck, but whats this meetin about? Ya already gave us the rundown bout what happened at the facility."

Xavier leaned forward in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him.

"We are here, we are all here to talk about something that is deeply disturbing me. For the first time I can honestly say that I am disappointed in you all. I would like someone to tell me exactly what happened in Antarctica."

Silence, no answer. They were all too ashamed to speak the truth. Out of all of them Bobby found his voice first.

"There was a trial, we found out that Remy was apart of the massacre of the morlocks."

"What kind of trial Bobby?"

"Well, Eric The Red had us at the citadel, and then Rogue kissed him and told us all what she found inside Remy's head, it all kinda happened so fast. Then we started fighting and we kinda just left him".

"And no one went back for him?"

"No, no one really talked about it."

"I see. Did Remy get a chance to defend himself during this trial? What words did he offer in his own defense?"

"Well, he didn't really say anything, Rogue asked him but he just kinda sat there. He did ask us to trust him, but after what Rogue had said how could we?"

"So Remy offered no words in his own defense other than to ask you to trust him? Tell me, all of you, any of you, would you not have granted that request to another member of the team?"

Again, no answer. Xavier was getting impatient, they had yet to admit that it was a mistake and he was not going to let this continue until they did.

"A member of this team, and he is a member of this team, is laying in the med lab right now with serious injuries that Hank is not even sure he recover from. Injuries that you are all responsible for in some part, yet none of you will admit that you were guilty of leaving a teammate to die?"

Jean did not like this turn of events, she had regretted what had happened but in no way did she feel guilty.

"We didn't really know Professor, Rogue just said that he was gone, she didn't tell us he was still alive."

"And no one questioned Her? When you found out did you go back for him?"

"Yes...well after a while."

"After a while Jean? You didn't leave him behind in the mall parking lott, he was in Antarctica, how long did you expect him to be able to survive?"

"I guess we never really did."

Jean's words held more truth than any that had been spoken on the subject before. Some had offered hollow words of remorse on the subject, some had expressed their satisfaction, others had even became angry, not that a teammate was lost as they would have others to believe but that they had willingly played a part in it but feigned ignorance. But the simple fact of the matter was that none of them had done anything worth while on Remy's behalf.

Scott had been one of the first to realize the mistake that they had made, he was regretful of their actions and that they failed Gambit as a team, but now he was more interested in making things right than placing blame. While others were viewing this in black and white he was seeing shades of grey. They left Remy, and that was wrong, but he was part of the Massacre, he hadn't absolved Remy of all guilt yet, he felt that he needed to pay for his actions if he had done something wrong, but only after all of the facts had presented themselves.

"Look professor, I agree, what we did to Remy was wrong, but that's not to say that he doesn't still deserve to stand trail for his actions. He was the one who didn't deny the charges, he practically admitted his guilt. We never should have left him, but he still needs to answer the accusations against him."

Whenever Scott spoke he demanded the attention of everyone in the room, it was part of what made him such an effective leader. He had everyone's respect even if he didn't have their friendship, it was the way that he carried himself, his posture commanded others to defer to him. So when he spoke every set of eyes on the room were focused on him, and none of them noticed the lithe figure standing in the shadows of the doorway listening to every word with calculated interest, he had been waiting for the appropriate time to announce his presence, his anger told him that now was that time.

"So, den I guess y'all gunna be wantin' to put Remy on trial again den eh?"

His words were as neutral as he could make them, it was half a rhetorical question that still begged an answer. Despite his efforts to keep his tone neutral everyone in the room picked up on the undercurrent of venom that laced his words.

For a moment they all sat stunned, like teenagers who were caught spreading rumors by the subject of their gossip. If Kurt would have been there he would have teleported out of the room to escape the awkwardness.

"Please, don' let me stop you f'rm tellin' us all why I need to be punished Scotty. By all means continue."

After they had recovered from their initial shock Hank tried to run damage control in the form of changing the subject.

"Remy, what are you doing out of the med lab, I thought that I gave you specific instructions not to leave your bed?"

"You did, an you ain' my doc 'enry, jus' de guy who patched me up cause he had to dats all. An dat don' answer my question, y'all plannin on puttin me on trail again?"

This is not what Xavier had wanted, he had hoped that by the time Remy met with the rest of the team he would be facing apologies, not hearing them ridicule him for his past mistakes.

"Remy, please sit down, no one is putting you on trial, we were simply discussing the events that transpired in Antarctica."

"I t'ink I'll stand, don' plan on stayin' long anyways, seen dis show already an I don' like de endin"

Remy was dressed in his full uniform, they had still kept a spare for him in the storage closet, it was familiar if not comforting. But his leather duster and body armor still couldn't hide his busted stitches that were no longer holding back the blood that was now flowing freely down his body.

Hank began to make a move toward Remy, but the stare that he received let him know with no uncertainty that they were not on friendly terms here.

"Dats far enough mon ami, I be fine. Jus' came up here to get some t'ings f'rm my room, seems f'r some reason I didn' have de chance to move out b'fore I lef'. But when I walked by an' heard de grand jury deliberatin' I thought I'd see what de verdict was, guess I got my answer."

"Listen Kid, aint no one here gunna put you on trial, we were just sortin' through some things."

"Oui, I heard. Same old story, I risk my neck to save a couple X-men who don' appreciate it anyways, den I get de five star treatment for my efforts. Kinda makes me wonder why I don' do it more often."

He was feeling weak, but he refused to show it. He had a small feeling that they might try to force him into submission so they could take him back to the med lab. If they thought he was at full strength or close to it they would never try. Only Logan could guess at the exact state of his injuries right now, but he wouldn't try and take Remy back if he didn't want to go, that wasn't his way.

Ororo felt that she was obligated to say something. Remy had always listened to her in the past, she had a calming effect on him.

"Remy please, I would like you to stay, we can work through this."

"Really Stormy? When I was freezin' my ass off I remember lookin' up to de sky, hopin dat an angel would come an' take me outta dat hell, an' I don' remember seein' you when I looked up, an believe me you woulda stood out. So tell me again how bad you wan' me back when you didn' do nothin' to help get me here, 'cept drag me back when I was already unconscious?"

She was crushed, she had never expected to hear those words from Remy, words that hit to close to her heart and weighed with more truth than she could admit.

"Have you no forgiveness in your heart Remy?"

"Ha! Didn' know you had developed a sense of humor while I was gone chere, Let's jus' say dat my heart is a little colder den it used to be."

"God help you my brother."

His voice went even colder than it had before, he was now speaking in a tone that none of them had ever heard from him. It was a voice that he reserved for his other life, away from the X-men, the voice he used for dealing with rival thieves, rapist and murderers, the voice he used for dealing with people he despised.

"God lef' me a long time ago stormy, de devil jus' to 'fraid to come an claim me."

It was obvious to the rest of the team that Gambit had not come back to make amends; it was obvious that he didn't feel like he had anything to make amends for. So far through the confrontation Rogue was oddly silent, they would have all guessed that she would be the first to try and convince him to stay. But she only stared at the floor, her hands balled into fist resting in her lap.

"Ain' ya even gunna look at me chere? Am I not even good enough fo your anger anymore?"

He could sense her feelings as he could sense all of their feelings. It was odd; he had never felt them all so clearly before, even amidst the initial confusion that swept the room he could still pick out the underlying emotions that pervaded their minds. Xavier and Jean's emotions were coming through just as clearly as everyone else's, they usually did an excellent job of shielding them but he was still picking them up for some reason. He knew she wasn't really mad, he could feel her guilt, it was what was keeping her from speaking to him, from looking at him. He was familiar with that kind of guilt, he had lived on it for most of his life, thus he had learned to control it, she wasn't nearly as skilled as he was at the art of masking her emotions. For a brief moment it brought him a twisted sense of satisfaction, partly over knowing that she still cared for him, but mostly that she was suffering.

"Easy Gambit, It wasn't her fault, she couldn't help it."

Bobby hated seeing Rogue beat up on, he knew the fragile state she was in when it concerned Gambit and it killed him to see her brought down even farther by the one person who could offer her freedom from her depression.

"Couldn't help it? So if I accidentally los' control of m' powers and started chargin everthing in sight I guess I couldn' help dat niether den eh? I guess if dat included people, women and children, all screamin f'rm de pain I couldn' help dat neither. I guess if I had to sell my soul to el diable de get control den serve him in return den I couldn' help dat too eh, alls forgiven cause I couldn' help it? Merde Bobby, it all so clear now, I jus' wish you woulda been der for me all dem years ago so I wouldn' have felt so guilty for all de death. I t'ink you might have a real future in dis whole thearpy thing."

"Remy your sarcasm is not helping the situation; we can talk about this reasonably".

"Ain' here to help de situation professor, I'm here to get my stuff an leave, it seems dat I've already overstayed my welcome."

"And what of Sinister, and the facility?"

"Not my problem mon brave, dat seem like its more up de X-men's alley den mine."

"You would let all those people suffer Remy, when you could help them? I know you feel betrayed but I doubt that you have that in you."

"I'm gunna do you a favor and prove you right professor".

A small sliver of hope sprung into Xavier's mind, he knew that Remy was still decent inside.

"I'm gunna be de cold hearted son of a bitch dat you all always thought I was and treated me like."

With that statement two things happened, Xaiver's hope for Remy faded into nothingness and Remy turned his back and walked out the door.

He had hoped it would be unnecessary, the last thing Remy needed was more guilt, but he spoke the words anyways.

"Obviously you did not have time to read the full list that provided us with."

His footsteps faltered.

"Why is dat?"

"Because one of them was Sarah, It is not hard to figure out how she got out of the tunnels Remy; we all know it was you who carried her from the sewers. You would leave her to Sinister even though you know what he is capable of?"

He hung is head and looked at the ground, he could not let her fall victim to Sinister, she was an innocent. She should have never been involved with the man in the first place, but she was within his grasps again, if he hadn't already terminated her. He would save her, but not with them.

"Saved her once, dats all I owe her."

None of them could believe the words that he had spoken. Even those that thought Remy was the cold hearted man he now claimed to be didn't expect this. Only Wolverine picked up the scent that gave it away as an outright lie, it was the only reason he didn't skewer him on the spot. Remy didn't even believe the words himself, the more he thought about it the more he lost his conviction to leave. Perhaps the X-men did give him the best chance of saving her, and if that was the case didn't he owe it to her to help them?

Xavier couldn't hear the thoughts in Remy's mind, he never could. So he played his last card, he appealed to the strongest feeling that he believed Remy to have, his sense of survival.

"Sinister will come for you Remy, there is no question about it."

The words barely registered, he was to engrossed in his own internal conflict of leaving or staying, which one would give Sarah the best chance of survival. Xavier didn't know it but his words mattered little.

"If you chose to stay, we could work together in a partnership until we discern what it is Sinister is up to."

He had already decided to stay before Xavier finished his sentence, he had to think back a few seconds to remember what he just said, he had barely paid attention to any of it. When he did recall the one sided exchange he snapped back into reality and jumped on the chance that had presented itself.

"Fine. But Remy ain' no X-man, I come an' go as I please."

"Understood."

"An' I ain' stayin at de mansion, I'll take de boathouse."

"Agreed."

He finally made it out the door, less than pleased with the events that had just taken place.

_'Shoulda never wen' in der fool, coulda got your stuff an been gone, wouldn' have even known 'bout de girl, can't feel guilt over somethin' you don' know 'bout.'_

He slipped into the garage and raised up his shirt, the bleeding had slowed, whether it was because of the natural clotting of his blood or the fact that he had lost so much he didn't know, but he did know it hurt like hell. He mounted his bike that was still housed in the same spot that he left it and headed into town, he needed something to get his mind of the pain, mental and physical. And since he was staying in the boathouse no one would question him when he came back falling down drunk.


	19. Chapter 19

CH 19:

It had been a long time since he had been among friends of any real value, even those that he once considered such revealed themselves to be no more than a hopeful illusion. Of course their were people who considered themselves his friend, but they were only drawn into the easy facade that he cast before them, the feeling was rarely reciprocated but often enough it was duplicated for effect. He had discovered long ago that he held that affect on people and had been using it to his advantage since. It was easy to make them fall for his once calculated charm that now came as a reflex, he did it often, he never knew when someone was going to prove themselves valuable or when he would need a favor. But he trusted few of them, and even of the ones he did trust he didn't genuinely like. He had surrounded himself with an endless sea of acquaintances and contacts, drawn into what ever false persona he felt necessary to display for them.

He didn't know exactly where he was going, the blacktop of the highway had become an unrelenting pattern of monotony until it was broken up by the bright lights of the city. The fresh air had done a little to distract him from the pain he was experiencing caused by his wounds, he thought they should have hurt more, but they were surprisingly bearable and becoming less bothersome as time passed.

He wanted the combination of solitude coupled with quiet distraction. He needed somewhere with an atmosphere but where the patrons knew enough when not to bother a man. He thought of Harry's, but there was too much of a risk running into one of his old teammates there, the last thing he wanted was someone trying to babysit him right now, or was it? Maybe he wanted them to pay attention to him, show him that someone still gave a damn about him. Yes; he wanted that, but from anyone but them.

He decided to hit up one of his old guild haunts, it wasn't an official guild bar, but enough members congregated there to make it a safe haven. Since it wasn't sanctioned by the guild as an official meeting place he wouldn't have to worry about anyone approaching him with business, he could just sit there and drink himself into oblivion and no one would bother him.

He parked his bike across the road from a hole in the wall that screamed out to every low life and hustler within sight. It was saying a lot of things to a lot of people, it told cops they weren't welcome, it told criminals that this wasn't the place to cause trouble, it told everyone else that entrance was by invitation only, if you had never been here before there was a reason, and it told Remy to come right in and make himself comfortable.

He took a seat at the bar, a table would have drawn less attention but it hardly mattered in a place like this, plus sitting at the bar had the added benefit of getting his drinks to him as quickly as possible. The haggard bar tender took a look at him and waited expectantly.

"Bourbon an' water"

He downed it before the bottom of the glass even had a chance to sweat onto the bar and ordered another.

"Bourbon, neat, no water."

This one went down just as fast, but not fast enough. If anyone had cared to pay attention to him they would have noticed that he had one thing and one thing only on his mind tonight. He slid a fifty onto the bar.

"Bourbon, leave de bottle eh?"

The bartender complied with his request; the fifty was more than enough to cover the cost of the bottle of makers mark, even selling it by the shot. He toyed with the idea of not even using his glass, but even if he cared little for public opinion their was a line of inconspicuousness that he did not want to cross, so he kept pouring himself shots, and downed them one by one. When he was sufficiently drunk enough to slow down he took a look around the bar, usually that would have been the first thing he did, but lately his senses were so heightened he didn't have to, he could feel someone coming from a mile away. In-fact he had to concentrate twice as hard to repress his field, he had began to pick up people walking by outside, and as he got more intoxicated that turned into sensing people across the street, then down the road, it continued until he was picking up movements from rats in a warehouse on the other side of the block. He didn't know what was going on but it was starting to wear his nerves thin, so he took another drink.

He recognized a few faces; none of them recognized him - that was usually the way he played it. He almost never revealed himself to contractors or fencers; they couldn't see you sweat if they couldn't see you. He didn't recognize any of them from the New York guild which was just as well, the last thing he needed was the guild coming down on him for showing up in the city unannounced, next thing he would know he'd be getting unwanted credit for every unsanctioned job that went down without guild approval.

He finally settled and allowed himself to think. He was always thinking, but usually his thoughts ran more along the strategic sense than the reflective. When events were happening in real time you couldn't afford to slip into a reflective state, he was always analyzing every angle, trying to figure out how he could twist the outcome to his benefit. But now he wondered how in the hell he ended up in the one place he swore he would never come back to. Was it just the news of Sarah that made him stay? Did he still have feelings for any of them, did he ever really? He could hardly tell anymore, the staged personification of his personality was starting to mix into his true essence; he was starting to buy into his own bullshit, having trouble differentiating between the many different faces that he put on display to the world around him. He tried to draw on his memories to guide him, what would the old Remy do, the Remy that existed before he was betrayed by those he trusted most? Before he could let that answer surface he cut it off as inconsequential; that man was weak and foolish enough to let himself trust in the first place, that man was dead and from the ashes was born what he had now become - cold and thoughtless, concerned for his own survival and nothing more. Even as he spoke the words into his head he laughed out loud, he was more full of shit than he had originally thought.

_'Ain' no way you c'n feel dis guilty an' say you don' still care homme.'_

But where did that leave him? He knew that if he stayed with the X-men long enough he would slip back into his old routine again, eventually it would be as if nothing happened at all. Things had away of getting lost in their world, in-between the non stop fighting and Xavier's dream it seemed little else mattered much. The thing was; he knew it all along, he knew it as soon as he woke up in the med lab, he knew it when he walked into the war room, he knew it when he agreed to stay, it wouldn't be long before he was calling himself an X-man again.

He took another shot and slammed his glass down in anger. He was mad at the undeniable eventuality of it all, he was mad at the helplessness he felt to alter his own fate. Just a month ago he had plans of fading into his old life, becoming a legend of his craft, no not a legend, the legend. Now he was on the verge of playing hero again, and damn it if there wasn't a part of him that was looking forward to it. He had resigned himself to his fate, but if he was going to unwilling play the same game again he would make certain that those who drew him back in would not forget what they had done to him. He was here now, so he would find a way to make them pay for their transgressions, they weren't getting away from this one, their self-righteousness wasn't going to protect them from repayment.

And what the hell was that dream that he had? No, it was more than a dream; it was too real to only be a product of his imagination. It was not an angel; he knew that, no angel would ever come for him unless it was the angel of death. But what then? He had been so willing to let it all go, but now the message that was delivered to him in his final moments only left him with questions, questions that he had to have answers for. The only problem was where to begin to find them. The problem wasn't that he didn't know, the problem was that he did know, and he didn't like where it would lead him.

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"Yes he is gone, I am certain of it. I checked everywhere and his bike is missing, Logan said that he couldn't find a fresh sent of him anywhere, he's been away at least a couple of hours."

Jean looked unusually calm. It was a purposeful ruse as she was anything but, however she felt the need to convey an air of nonchalance hoping that others would fall in suit, they didn't need to feel like they were doing anything wrong.

"Ya but that don't mean he won't walk right in on us, even I can't hear the Cajun comin till he's right on top of me".

"Then I suppose that we shall have to conduct this meeting quickly."

The X-men were gathered in the same room as before, nothing had changed except the time, and the topic was still Remy. Xavier resumed the meeting.

"I suppose you are all wondering why I insisted that Remy stay with us."

They all waited expectantly for an answer from Xavier, they all had their own ideas but doubted the validity of them.

"Besides the obvious fact that we owe it to Remy and ourselves to gain closure on the matters that have caused a rift between us there is the situation with Sinister to consider, I believe that something greater than our own personal differences with each other is unfolding. When I was being held prisoner by Sinister he kept gloating over me, telling me how I was but one piece of his plan."

"What does that have to do with Gambit?"

"We cannot be certain Scott, we only have what Rogue told us of Destinies prophecies. She said that our world would hinge on the actions of one man - Remy, and that he was closely tied to another, and that other individual was Trask. I do not believe that Destiny knew Sinister was masquerading as Trask but the connection is still there. It would be foolish to ignore her warning."

"Professah, don't put to much stock inta what Destiny says, most of the time she ain't even right."

"I am aware of that Rogue, but we cannot take the chance of letting Remy fall victim to Sinister again."

Jean had tried to stay on an even keel, but lately had found herself speaking out more against Gambit than for him, she only wanted to maintain a balance until they could sort through the mess that they had made, but there were to many factors that were coming into play for her to remain neutral anymore.

"I think that before we decide anything we should think of the possibility that joining with Sinister is what Remy wants."

Without Warren and Betsy she didn't find as much support for her cautiousness as she would have liked, but more than one of them nodded their heads in recognition of the possibility. Ororo was still shocked from Remy's rejection of her earlier, she wasn't sure what to think, she felt as if she hardly knew him anymore.

"I cannot pretend to know Remy's mind, he is quite different from the man I used to know."

Then sadly she added,

"I suppose the responsibility of that fact lies mostly upon us and the consequences of our actions. While I still doubt that Remy is in concert with Sinister I feel that caution is necessary."

This shocked more than a few in the room, if their was one person that they all would have expected to stand by Remy no matter what his actions it was Storm.

"Now hold on here! Will ya'll listen to yaselves! Arguin ovah what ya think of Remy like he would even care what your opinion is."

Rogue was more animated than they had seen her since the trial, the complacency had faded and they recognized some of the fire that used to burn within her.

"Just cause he ain't crawlin back here beggin our forgivenss ya'll automatically think that he's our enemy? In case ya'll done forgot, were the ones who left him ta die, he didn't come back here on his own, we brought him back. And when we did find him he was facin down thirty armed gaurds to help the Proffesah. I used to think that ya'll thought too little of him, but now I see that ya'll are given the man too much credit, how in the hell is he supposed to forgive us after the way we've treated him?"

She was standing now, showing her fury to all of them, challenging anyone to question her words. A few thought to placate her, Logan only nodded his approval, he had gotten tired of her self pity, but Jean wasn't about to let the fight go that easy.

"You're yelling at us like we are all against him Rogue, were not, were just trying to figure out what's going on. Don't pretend to separate yourself from us now that he's back, you had as much a part to play in this as any of us, or have you already forgotten?"

"I ain't forgot nothin Jean, but at least I'm willin to forgive him and give him what he asked for, the one thing that we shoulda been given him all along, he's just askin for a little trust."

This wasn't what Jean was trying to accomplish, she really didn't dislike Gambit, she just wanted things sorted through clearly before they made any relevant decisions.

"I understand, and I agree with you, I'm just suggesting that whatever we do, we do with full knowledge of what were getting into."

"Rogue's right Jean, we need to show Gambit that we trust him, that's the only way that he will volunteer any information to us. You all know that he's never going to tell us anything if we keep prodding him for it, it's like he takes offense to it."

"I don't understand what you're saying Scott, are you saying that the way we find out what's going on is to ignore the situation."

"Basically, think about it. Has anyone ever gotten a straight answer from Gambit when they've questioned him? I Know I haven't, he just side steps the question. But looking back anytime that their was relevant information that pertained to anything important he always told us if we needed to know, and if we didn't need to know it was because he took care of the problem himself. We just need to trust that if it's anything important Gambit will let us know."

It was a valid point; everyone in the room saw some small truth in his words. They were far from satisfied with it but they could see no other options, they knew that they could never pry information from Remy so this was their only option.

"Scott is right, assuming that Remy has anymore idea of what is happening than we do. Consider this a standing order; no one is to pressure Remy about what he has done since the trial. For one it is none of our business, at the time he was not an X-man and no longer considers himself one. Additionally he will be treated and hold the same privileges as if he were still a member of the team. Are there any questions?"

There were nothing but questions, but no one spoke out. They all respected Xavier's decision but there were some who would find it difficult to follow.

"Very well, then you are all dismissed, thank you."

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: "Even as we speak The First's horseman flies toward The One planning his death, he has a powerful ally in Sinister, I fear that he will succeed. If he does then it is only a matter of time until The First completes his conquest of this world".

"It is not possible. He does not have the power nor the means to end the life of The One, only The First himself has such power, it is the terms of the wager that was made."

: "Are you certain, already he has come close to death on numerous occasions, he was on the precipice when you yourself pulled him back."

"This is true, however it was only of his own volition that he was at that point, the only other one besides The First who has the power to send him to death is himself. He now knows that he has a purpose to serve on this world, he will not willingly slide into non-existence again."

: "Will he have access to his full powers when the final confrontation begins?"

"He already has access to them, the question is will he realize it?"

: "Will he?"

"That is quite sometime from now, it is hard to say, but already they are expanding and he is accepting it, even embracing it in some aspects. If they continue to progress slowly he should have no problem adapting to his power."

: "And if they do not come to fruition in this manner? What if an event occurs that unleashes his full potential suddenly without warning?"

"Then we will have to hope that he is strong enough to control them."

: "Is he?"

"I would not have chosen him if he was not."

: "That is a convenient answer, what of the child of Xavier? You bestowed the power upon him yet he was not strong enough to control them."

"As I said, Legion was an anomaly who was victim to circumstance, it wasn't how much power he was given but the type, this one is different, these powers are more controllable and less subject to outside influence."

: "Yet Sinister has such an influence, you are aware of the virus he has constructed to negate The One's powers? If he is captured Sinister will surely destroy him if he does not use him for the designs of The First."

"Sinister had no idea of the power he is up against; his mortal means can do nothing against the powers of The One. He serves to gather the army for The First, but that is the extent of the role that he can play in this conflict."

: "Have you sensed a power not of this world drawing near? It is strong, as strong as mine or your own, yet I have never felt its presence before."

"I have felt it, and I have long expected it's presence to make the journey to this world."

"What is it? It is so different from any other I have felt."

"It is The Celestials, they have come to watch the end, I would not have expected them to miss it."

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He had reached the point where consciousness and oblivion come together, where today's memories would not be differentiated from hallucinations or dreams; he was drunk.

He stumbled out of the bar, wary of his own inebriation but hardly caring, this is who he had become, this was his life now and he accepted it. Shunned, alone, simply a tool of his own mechanizations, accomplishing whatever task he wanted to complete with emotionless efficiency, drinking was only a means to an end to meet the goals of his new lifestyle.

The ride back to the mansion was filled with far less thought than the ride out; he had to use all of his mental energy just to concentrate on keeping on the road. When he arrived at the mansion gate he realized that he didn't remember the code to open them. The ride had served to give him some time to sober up, he was still feeling some effects of his night out but most of his senses had returned. He dismounted his bike and walked over to the keypad, it had occurred to him that no one had cared to give him the new code to the gate, but it hardly mattered. He had broken mansion security a hundred times before, he used to do it for fun just to get a rise out of Bishop, but this time he was circumvented from his ways when the gates opened themselves. Still facing the keypad Remy felt a smile born from amusement form on his face.

"'ello pup, ain' it past your bedtime?"

"Aren't you a little old to be sneaking in past curfew?"

Same old story, same exchange, not much had changed between them, Remy was grateful for that small comfort at least.

"So you come to arrest me den eh?"

"Why? So you can break out as soon as I turn by back?"

"You cops don' ever learn, can' turn your back on a Lebeau."

That brought a rare smile to Bishops face, the usually stern man rarely engaged in banter, but he enjoyed it when the subject was as unpredictable as Remy.

"Welcome back old man, seems we didn't get a chance to talk before you left."

"Not much to say pup, mebbe we c'n postpone de reunion till another time eh? I t'ink dat I need to get some sleep."

"I think that you need to get back to the boathouse, If Ororo sees you like this she'll pitch a fit."

"She get over it, don' have no room for judgin me no more anyways."

"You hurt her Lebeau, she was worried about you. When you came back she was expecting you to be happy to see her, she's worse now than when you left."

"Am I s'pposed to feel guilty bout dat pup? What did ya wan' me to do? Oh dats ok chere, I don' mind dat no one came back for me, dat no one cared whether or not I lived or died, live and let live eh?"

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They faced each other now, one cool and composed the other brimming with unchecked rage. And in the distance an uninvited guest tried to pick up their words, to pick the right time for his strike. Lebeau looked distracted, but he had seen that ruse before, he was never distracted. He would have to time his attack perfect, he had not expected Lebeau to be accompanied by anyone but he would just have to deal with the unexpected ally. He recognized the man as Bishop, he had nothing against the man, in fact his master considered Bishop to be one of the strong. A powerful mutant who rarely showed emotion, perhaps after he was done with Lebeau he could collect Bishop and bring him back with him, his master would most likely overlook his unapproved foray if he brought back such a valuable asset.

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Something was wrong here; he stood facing a Remy who was full of rage, displaying his anger in a way that was unusual for him. He had seen him mad before, but not like this, it was uncontrolled and unlike him.

At the end of his tirade he paused, as if he was out of breath, but in-between his gasp for air he breathed silent words of warning.

"Were bein' watched pup, don' look but across de road in de tree line."

He raised his voice again for effect.

"An another t'ing, I don' need you spyin on me for de rest of dem traitors, don' come out here pretendin' friendship when you only wanna keep an eye on me!"

Clap...clap...clap...

He emerged from the treeline bringing his hands together in a slow exaggerated applause.

"Excellent performance traitor, you would have fooled almost anyone; anyone who wasn't used to your deceit anyways."

Bishop lowered his weapon in relief,

"Jesus Angel, you scared the crap outta us, where the hell have you been? We thought that you had been captured at the facility with Betsy."

Archangel only gave him a cold calculating smile, aware of the fact that he knew something that they didn't, but that they soon would.

"Don' lower dat weapon jus' yet mon ami, he ain' right."

"Bravo traitor, your perception of the obvious never ceases to amaze me, after all it truly takes evil to recognize the same."

"What are you talkin bout Warren? We ain' got no quarrel."

"I beg to differ traitor."

Warren jumped to the air and took flight, just as Remy had expected, he was ready for him. He dropped into a crouch and prepared to let loose the card that he had prepared for the moment he was anticipating. His movements were lightning quick, but Bishop was a trained solider and caught his arm before he could complete the motion, giving Warren a temporary reprieve.

"What are you doing Remy?"

"Merde pup! your a damn fool!"

Those were the last words that Bishop heard before a paralyzing fletching from Warren's wings caught him in the throat and sent him to unconsciousness, the blood that squirted from his neck splattered against Remy's face, the distraction it provided almost resulted in Remy befalling the same fate, but his senses screamed at him to execute a roll out of the way.

He dove over Bishops fallen body and rose to his feet, drawing out his staff in one fluid movement in enough time to deflect several metal projectiles that were traveling close to the speed of bullets. The loud clang of metal on metal resonated in the air as the two stared into each others eyes and came to an understanding, if one fell then that would mean certain death, this was no sparring match but a fight to the finish.

Warren had lost the advantage of surprise, Remy knew he was coming now and could play the game his way. He feinted right but moved to his left, running for cover that would provide him with protection from the rain of projectiles that were falling toward him, he unleashed a handful of cards while completing the maneuver that barely missed their target.

This could shape up to be a long battle if not for the taunts that Warren threw at him as a reminder.

"It looks like one of my darts hit a vain Traitor, he won't have long to live if he keeps bleeding like that, not that you care though."

That caused Remy to pause in his maneuvers, a mistake that almost proved costly as several more metal darts ripped through the material of his trench coat. He could no longer play his game of cat and mouse waiting for his opportunity to strike; Bishop did not have the time.

"What do you wan' wit me eh? Let's get dis over wit'."

"Honestly Lebeau, Sinister had talked you up to be much more of a challenge, this is almost too easy."

Remy dodged another barrage of fletchings, these were travelling slower than the rest, he wasn't about to question his good fortune as they landed with a thud behind him. He looked up to track his assailant to find a smirking adversary looking smugly down at him. He was confused at first, but it all became clear when an explosion behind him where the darts had landed sent him flying forward. He didn't need his eyes to see what was happening next, he felt it as clearly as he was watching the scene as an observer. He probably would have dodged the next dart, this one fired from a gun, but the excess of alcohol that he had drank slowed his reflexes and he took the shot on the shoulder as he tried to roll out of the way. Angel brought himself down to the ground a mere 20 ft. from where Remy lay on the ground. He had expected to be paralyzed or sent into a tranquilized induced slumber, but the dart did little but provide him with a sharp pain where it stabbed into his skin.

"Your time has come Lebeau, you will pay for what you did to me, for what you did to the morlocks, and it will be by my hand."

His eyes were wild; he was heightened into frenzy by his own hate, the evil laugh that protruded forth from his mouth brought chills shuddering through Remy's spine, chills followed by an intense Anger.

"Fuck you you dumb son of a bitch, you were de one dat was weak, you were de one who couldn't resist Appocalypse, I ain' gunna pay for y'r own guilt, I gotta enough of m'own."

"Pity, you have no choice in the matter, the dart that you have been hit by carries a virus that was designed by Sinister's own hand, it will render your powers ineffective, you are nothing but cargo to me now to be taken back to my master, and back to Sinister to be experimented on."

If Warren would have simply shot Remy with another dart he could have had him. He could have sent him into a non-resistive state of slumber and easily brought him back with him. But he didn't, he had to gloat over him for his victory to be complete, he had to know that Remy went into darkness with the knowledge of what was to come, and that he was the reason for it.

His words had that effect, but they also served another purpose, to elevate his anger to another level, past the level of regret or pity, it made him forget his guilt and all associations that his actions had with it. The virus had already began to take effect, but even as Remy saw the night that was usually as bright as day to him start to dim, the movement of everything about him slow to a standstill and the power that was always ready for him to command at his fingertips start to slowly recede back into his core, he felt something snap. Something that usually served to constrain him, the barrier that he used to govern his actions and validate realities existence ceased to exist for him; he knew no truth of natural law except the one that existed in his mind. As if in slow motion he felt it reverse, it was all coming back to him. He felt the movement again, he saw the light that was hidden within the darkness of night and the power began to circulate freely through him again. Except it didn't stop there, the normal bounds had been broken, he now felt so much more. The movements were sharper and more crisp, he could see without looking, not just feel but see, and he felt the power that circulated within him extend to everything around him, organic and inorganic it made no difference, and it begged him to command it.

Remy stood to his feet, his face a mask of non feeling expression that promised action and reprisal. Warren pondered this latest turn of events; he had not expected Remy to challenge him again without his powers, without his agility he could not hope to dodge his attacks, so he tested his theory. He let loose one last barrage of paralytic darts from his wings that were aimed with the intent of bringing down Remy with the finality of revenge.

Warren was right in his assumption that Remy couldn't dodge his attack; or rather he was accurate in the assumption that he wouldn't dodge his attacks. Instead he saw his darts explode in mid air between himself and Remy, never coming close to the intended target. He was confused because they were not the fletchings he had been recently granted that were designed to explode, by all accounts Lebeau should be laying on the ground unconscious.

His confusion soon turned to agony, he felt his anger and hate multiply tenfold, it was twisted and turned, manipulated into something much stronger and more pure, then turned back on him, his own emotions were being used against him. The pain filled his senses and was so deafening that he couldn't manage to do anything but writhe on the ground, clutching at his head as if to somehow rip the pain from his mind.

Remy had been slowly walking toward him the entire time, the intensity of his attack increasing with each step. He was becoming lost in his own power, caught up in the same emotions that he was using against Warren. They were powerful, a devastating weapon to use, and he was experiencing them as if they were his own. This only served to drive him harder, to inflict more pain until he had destroyed his target. A gasp from the ground drew his attention away and he remembered Bishop. He ran to his side to check his pulse, it was faint but still present. A glance back over at Warren saw him taking to the air in retreat, he considered pursuit, he considered charging him while he was in mid flight and ending his miserable existence, but he thought it better to let him deliver this message back to his master, Remy Lebeau was not to be taken lightly, he was best left alone or avoided completely.

Remy hoisted Bishop over the back of his bike and sped him back to the mansion, the others would no doubt be interested in what had just happened, but how much would he tell them? Besides himself and Warren only bishop was present, and he didn't see what happened. In his short time of thought he decided it was best to keep this development to himself, the revelation of his new power would only cause more questions, more prodding and study of his anatomy, he would not be a tool for someone else's use again. So many secrets, but they were his secrets and his to keep, if they didn't like it then he would be more than happy to leave.

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"Bring him to me, we have much to discuss"

"Yes my lord."

He grew tired of this charade, every time he bowed to Apocalypse in the guise of a servant he felt intense anger sear through the back of his mind, it took all of his control not to act on it. He only found solace in the fact that their plans were progressing on schedule, and so far with few deviations that they could not handle.

Sinister walked into the cell that had held Betsy Braddock and spoke.

"He would see you now."

The body of Betsy turned to regard him, black soulless eyes surveyed him before the words escaped the lips, a voice that didn't belong to something as elegant as the mouth they came from spoke.

"I suppose I could continue torturing Braddock's mind at a later time, hopefully he has a more suitable form for me to possess, I long to destroy this one."

"He will soon, I assure you."

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In one motion Remy skidded his bike to a halt on the driveway to the mansion and removed Bishop from the back.

"Merde Bish, you been gettin into 'enry's twinkies?"

He had lost a lot of blood, of all the places for that dart to hit it landed on his jugular. Remy circumvented politeness and kicked open the doors, no one was around so he did the only thing he could think of.

"Help! Someone get down here now!"

In a moment the foyer was filled with weary eyed X-men, when Beast saw the reason for the late night alert he quickly sprang to action and took Bishop from Remy's grasp.

"How long Remy?"

"I dunno know, five, mebbe ten minutes at de most."

"He's lost a lot of blood, I need to get him to the med lab now."

Beast disappeared down the hall on his way to the med lab, an unconscious bishop was being carried over his shoulder. Remy turned to follow but felt a hand grab his shoulder from behind. He wasn't so far removed from his battle with angel that the move didn't catch him by surprise; he turned knocking the hand away and brought his other hand into his duster reaching for his staff. His instincts automatically went for the close quarters weapon, there was a time when he wouldn't have reacted this way, at least not inside the mansion, but those times were long past.

His movements caught Scott by surprise, he was only trying to get his attention, in hindsight he thought that a verbal announcement would have been better.

"Easy Gambit, I just want to know what happened."

Remy surveyed the faces in the room, there were no threats in their postures, Logan was on a slight edge but that was to be expected, it was his natural demeanor.

"I was comin' back f'rm downtown, Bish met me at de gates to de mansion to let me in. We was havin' a chat when Angel attacked us out de tree line 'cross de street. Saw it comin' too, but Bish let his guard down cause he thought dat Angel was still himself, so he didn' even see de dart comin' till it was buried in his throat."

Bobby shot him an incredulous look, not quite believing what he had just heard.

"Angel, as in Warren?"

"Did I stutter, you know another blue skinned freak wit metal wings dat shoot darts? Seems dat your ol' friend is back wit Apocalypse workin' as death again."

"An were supposed to believe that! Especially coming from someone who smells like they just climbed out of a bottle of whiskey?"

"Watch it icicle, or you gunna be keepin' Bishop company tonight."

No one quite knew how to take the news, some were skeptical, they knew how much Warren hated Apocalypse, the thought of Warren ever going back to serving him was hard to believe.

"Gambit, are you sure that he was death? How could you know for certain?"

"Well Jean, unless he had darts dat shot f'rm his wings and exploded before he left I t'ink it's pretty safe to say dat he's had a few upgrades, dat an' de whole 'I'm takin you back to my master' tirade kinda tipped me off."

This was a blow to the team that they were not ready for, they had just gotten Xavier back yet it seemed as if they had lost another one of their own to an evil that was beyond their control. They all wanted to believe that they were beyond that, that they were too loyal to one another to fall victim to such manipulations. If it would have just been Remy that had been attacked it would have been easier to deal with, it was no secret that Warren hated Remy with a misplaced passion, but he attacked Bishop and as far as they knew nearly killed him.

It hit Scott hardest of all, not because they were particularly close, but because he had finally thought that things were on their way to getting back to normal, he couldn't let things spiral out of control again when they were so close to returning to the way they were.

"Ok people, we need to figure out what were going to do here, we need to find Warren and work on a way to get him back to us."

"What de fuck is all dis we shit eh? You need to figure out a way to find Warren, I don' give a coons ass bout dat sorry son of a bitch, in fact next time I see him I'm gunna show him what bein' death really means."

Surprisingly no one was shocked by Remy's words, they all believed that they were caused by frustration and remnants of the battle that he had just fought, no one truly thought that he meant them.

"Remy, you do not mean that, Warren is still an X-man and needs our help".

Ororo was answered with a sardonic laugh.

"You don' get it do you 'Ro, ya Warren still be an X-man, true enough. But I ain' an X-man no more, I don' owe him nothin, an' I don' owe de rest of you notin either."

He meant every word he said, but there was more meaning behind those words than what was spoken, meaning that the others were starting to pick up on. This was not the first time that Warren had turned to serve Apocalypse, but they were willing to rush back into the foray to save him without a second thought and no doubt welcome him back with open arms, even after he had attempted to kill one of their own, two if they still counted Remy.

Remy had never done anything for them but lay his life on the line, yet at the first opportunity they had he was left for dead, no second chances for him only condemnation, the hypocrisy of it made him sick. This had already gone too far, he couldn't' let it continue because he knew where it would lead. He had been down this road before with them, and with so many others, just because he came back they assumed that all was on its way to being well again, just like he knew they would. He didn't want to see any of them hurt, he still held latent feelings for most of them, but he would not allow them to use him, not again.

" I need to see de professor, been here to long already, de sooner we get dis situation wit Sinister solved the sooner I c'n get de hell outta here."

"I need to see him too Gumbo, mind if I tag along?"

He thought about rebuking him, he thought about telling Logan to go fuck himself despite the obvious consequences it would have on his health, but in reality he didn't really harbor any ill will toward him. He had spent to much time around Logan and knew the kind of man that he was, he was honorable to a fault and would never condone what was done to him, if he had thought Remy deserved to die he would have said as much, then attempted to do the job himself.

"Fine by me, as long as you gimme one of dem cigars to smoke in his office jus' so I c'n piss him off."

That comment earned him a confused pause, followed by a raucous laugh that served to alleviate the tension of the situation. Remy and Logan turned to walk down the hallway to the professor's office when Jean offered them word on Bishops condition.

"Hank just told me that Bishop is going to be fine."

They both paused and looked over their shoulders, neither offered any words but continued down the hall to their destination, if Remy cared he didn't show it.

"You keep fightin this like ya don't want it Gumbo, I ain't buyin it".

Remy was silent, intensely focused on his own anger that he refused to let slip away, it was the only thing that was keeping him from making the same mistakes he had been making his whole life.

"Look, I aint sayin that you should give everyone a big hug and forgive and forget, but you can't keep avoidin the issue."

_'What de hell?'_

That got his attention.

"Avoid de issue? What de hell you talkin bout homme? How many ways c'n I tell dem all dat I ain' comin back an dat I won' never forgive dem for what they did?"

Wolverine stopped his movement and let loose a low guttural growl.

"Can the crap Cajun. That's bullshit and you know it. Ya, I'll give you that, you've made your feelin's clear enough, but ya ain't even said why. Ya said that you were pissed cause they left you in Antarctica, no shit who wouldn't be? But ya still ain't told them why it pissed you off, was it cause it was cold, was it cause you don't think ya deserved it, was it cause they didn't even bother to leave ya an extra pack of smokes? You keep dancin 'round the real issue it ain't never gunna get solved.

Remy pondered this for a moment, he knew Logan had hit on something true here, but he didn't want to admit it, to himself or anyone else.

"What makes you so sure dat I wan't de issue to get solved? Mebbe I'm fine wit t'ings jus' de way dey are an' I'm content to go my seperate way when dis is over wit."

"Hmpf, ya and maybe I'll go get sabertooths body and set up a nice funeral so I can shead tears of sorrow over his grave. Which reminds me.."

Logan reached into his jacket and produced a cigar for Remy and himself.

"Here, I owe ya this much at least, you gotta tell me about it Cajun, what happened?"

Remy took measure of Logan, he saw the intense hatred for someone who was already dead burning in his eyes, it occurred to him that the cruelest thing that he could have done to him would be to hold back that information.

"It wasn't notin' spectacular, no great battle or notin' like dat. I sniped him from across de street outta a hotel window, he saw me jus' before I pulled de trigger though, so he knew it was me. Woulda finished him off dere too but de rest of m'team showed up an' we had to transport him back to de facility, Sinister wanted him alive, probly so he could use him for whatever sick plan he got lined up next. I could't keep going though, know that he was still livin, not after de t'ings he's done."

Logan nodded in understanding.

"So when I was pullin de job dat I was dere for I snuck down into de cells an' found him dere, he was strapped down to de table an he couldn' move, so I walked up to him and shoved a knife into his brain, den to make sure he wouldn' be comin back I charged it up and blew his head off. Basically I murdered him."

Logan nodded again, this time in approval.

"That was more than he deserved Cajun, ya coulda tortured him from then till the end of time and it still wouldn't have been enough to make up for the sufferin he's caused. Don't ever let anyone tell you what you did was wrong, cause it weren't."

They continued the rest of the short walk to Xavier's office in silence, each contemplating their own feelings on Sabertooth and the fate that he ended up with, when they were outside the door about to enter Wolverine pressed him further.

"You know that your going to have to do it sooner or later."

"I know mon ami, but I don't know what I'm gunna say to her yet, I can' forgive her, but I can' leave t'ings like dey are between us."

That answer seemed to placate Logan's line of questioning and he let the matter drop. Remy knew that he had given more information about his presence at the facility than he had originally intended, but he also knew that eventually it would all come out sooner or later, he didn't mind Logan knowing anyways, he wasn't the type to go and spread the knowledge around, he would let Remy reveal it to who he wanted to when he wanted to.

Remy felt a slight buzzing in his head and knew that Xavier was trying to communicate with them, Logan turned to look at him.

"Well you goin in or what?"

They entered one after the other into Xavier's Study, the man was sitting behind his desk as usual with a concerned look over his face, he had barely been back a couple days before he was dealing with another catastrophe. It was easy to see that the events of late were taking a heavy toll on the wearied man.

"Honestly Remy, I don't know why you persist in blocking my telepathic communication."

Mockingly he answered..

"Honestly professor, it's cause I don't want none of y'r X-men sneakin 'round in m' head."

"Please sit down, what brings you two here?"

He didn't know; he never bothered to ask Logan why he had decided to come or what business he had with Xavier, he certainly didn't expect to have this conversation in front of him but he was till here all the same.

"I just came with the Cajun Chuck, I ain' sure what he wanted to talk to you about, but I figured it would be interesting."

Xavier raised his eyebrows at this, he wouldn't force Logan to leave, but he doubted that Remy would be as open with him while Logan was in the room.

_'Merde, don' matter anyways I guess'. _

"You were right, Sinister is after me, and from what dat batard Angel tol' me so is Appocalypse."

His brow creased and he rubbed the frustration from his eyes.

"I see. I don't suppose you know why?"

The chess game had began, to minds pitted against each other in a match of will and strategy. Remy held the advantage, he had the control over what was revealed and when it was revealed, Xavier could only hope to pry as much information from him as he could, and Xavier knew that he would only get what Remy decided to give. He had dealt with him in this fashion before, he knew that Remy would not slip and would never make a mistake in this verbal sparring match, he had to convince him that he wanted to give the information, that in itself would be a monumental task. Both were experienced in this game, Xavier from a psychologist standpoint, Remy because his life had so often depended on his ability to withhold or attain information. Xavier was smarter from an academic standpoint, but Remy knew people, he knew them from experience, expressions and tendencies were tied to the emotions that he read with his mutant power, and he had memorized and catalogued every occurrence. Xavier had the same benefit, he had often caught stray surface thoughts and the expressions that accompanied them, however when he was dealing with Remy he was blind, he couldn't read his thoughts and he was a master of deception, he would gain nothing from his expressions.

Xavier made the opening move, trying to make Remy play his game.

"I have not yet had the chance to properly thank you yet Remy. I owe you a great debt of gratitude for saving my life, there is no telling what would have happened to me had it not been for you."

A feint, trying to keep his true motives hidden until he was ready to reveal them.

"I was already on m'way out, figured I might as well take you wit me, it was no problem."

Parried, he wouldn't reveal his true emotions on the subject, he cast the air of nonchalance, that he didn't have to put forth any great effort to rescue Xavier, he stayed noncommittal.

"So do you know why Sinister or Apocalypse is interested in you?"

"Non, I was hopin dat you could tell me, you were in de facility de longest, figured dey might have tol' you sometin."

Keep him on the defensive, make him answer the questions and he won't be able to ask his own, one that he didn't want to answer.

"He did tell me that I was only one piece to his plan, and that he was close to gaining the others, perhaps you were one of the other pieces he was after?"

"Mebbe, mebbe it was Betsy an' Warren an' he already got dem, mebbe Remy jus' a bonus, might need somet'in stolen."

"Perhaps, but I do not think that we can discount the theory."

Logan watched the exchange with interest, he wasn't exactly sure what was going on, just that there was a whole lot of bullshit being thrown around at once. He didn't realize the thought and strategy that was being put behind every phrase.

"Tell me Remy, do you truly not want to come back to the Team, you know that you will always have a place here."

Misdirection, trying to find an opening in his defenses, Remy was caught off guard for a moment at the comment, and at its true sincerity.

"I 'preciate de offer professor, but I don' t'ink were der yet."

"I understand."

Silence, they each calculated their next move in the verbal exchange.

"Guess der is only one way to fin' out den, mebbe instead of waitin for dem to come get me I should go to dem."

Xavier paused to consider this, he wasn't exactly sure what Remy meant at first.

"What did you have in mind Remy?"

"Sinister has Besty, Warren dere too, and he wants Remy, how else you plannin on gettin in dere to save em? Ain' exactly like you even know where to start lookin', an even if you did you couldn' hope to get past all de security, not wit out loosin' some more X-men. So you let Remy go in undercover, den he come out wit em, jus' like at de facility."

He offered that last piece of information as a peace offering, he let Xavier know that he had not been in league with Sinister when he was at the facility.

"No, it's too dangerous and I can't allow it, I can't afford to loose anymore X-men."

"Ha, Professor, I don't t'ink you understand, I wasn' askin' you if I could, I was tellin' you dat I was gunna."

The Gambit, sacrificing one valuable piece to win the game, it had been played perfectly, Xavier was completely thrown off his original line of questioning, and at the same time he was reminded that he was never even a factor in this exchange, Remy knew where it was going to end all along.

"How do you plan on accomplishing this yourself?"

"I don', that's why when I get in an' find em de X-men are gunna come and help wit de extraction."

It was an incomplete plan at the best, but it was the only option that they had.

"How do you plan on infiltrating their base? Like you said we don't even know where it is, and even if you did I doubt you could just go knock on the door without causing suspicion."

"Leave dat to me, de less you know de better, I don' need anyone interferin an gettin me killed, which is why no one is gunna know about dis outside de folks in de room."

"You can't expect us to keep this secret Remy, people will notice when you disappear and they will start to ask questions as to your whereabouts."

"I expect dem to, but your gunna have an answer, de one answer dat dey will be sure to believe."

Logan leaned in, anxious to hear the rest of Remy's plan, he was expecting something intricate, after hearing some of the stories people told about Gambit, Logan had developed a begrudging respect for his reputation and some part of him had wanted to be apart of one of his operations.

"And what would that be?"

"You gunna tell dem dat Gambit's a traitor."

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The End, hope you enjoyed it.

P.s., just kidding.


End file.
